LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



S^ajt. 0qu|rijj|t Ifu. 

Shelf-f.il±a.O| 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



Von Boyle's 




•..Publisher.* 

' New York 



THE 



ENTERTAINMENTS 

Griven By 

Mp.ACLAND BOYLE, 

Tlie Celebrated. 

— ARE — 

Refined! Instructive! Versatile! Original! 



GOLDEN OPINIONS. 

BOSTON. 

" He was applauded to the echo. In a word he made a hit." 

— Boston Globe, Sept. 1st, '78. 

. CINCINNATI. 

"Best that has appeared here. Enthusiastically applauded."' 

— Cincinnati Times, Oct. 10th, '79. 

WASHINGTON. 

" I was struck with his rare dramatic ability and orignal talent." 

Grace Greenwood. — Capital, 1876. 

NEW TOBK CITY. 

"He will be sure to interest and instruct as often as he is beard." 

— Rev. R. S. McArthur, D. D. 
" He makes people laugh until they cry, without offending good taste." 

— Rev. A.S Walsh, D. D. 
" I take pleasure in commending him and his objects." 

— Rev. G. W. Samson, D. D., LL. D. 
'' I was interested, entertained and benefited by the entertainment he 
gave us. I am satisfied that all who hear him will be both pleased and in- 
structed." — Rev. D. B. Jutton, D. D. 

Address $, D. RIDDLE, Agent, 

23 3Iurray St., New York. 



VON BOYLE'S 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



A CAREFUL COMPILATION OF 



pieces for tfje harlot anir tlje platform. 



"From grave to gay ; from lively to severe." 

A number of these pieces are entirely new candidates for. public favor,— 
written especially for this book ; others make their first appear- 
ance as adaptions ; some are gleanings from the latest maga- 
zine r. and other literary fields ; the rest are standard 
selections which " the world will not 
willingly let die." 







W^W ° 



DE WITT, PUBLISHER, 

No. 33 Eose Street. 

Copyright, 1883, by A. T. B. De Witt. 



1> 



o\ 



**tt^ 



TO THE PUBLIC. 



In Yon Boyle's Recherche Recitations 
will be found many pieces which cannot be 
found elsewhere. The genial " Yon " hag 
written several expressly for this book ; and it 
also contains many adaptations from this fa- 
mous humorist's repertoire, which now make 
their first appearance in print. The remainder 
of the pieces, old and new, are carefully se- 
lected with reference to variety, good taste, 
and availability. 

DE WITT, 

Publisher. 

New York, October, 1883. 



CONTENTS 



VON BOYLE'S RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



PAGE 

Acres and the Hands (The) A.J.E. Duganne 134 

Address by Orator Climax « Anonymous 12 

Bad Boy Gets a Black Eye (The) G. W. Peck 82 

Bald-headed Man (The) Anonymous 168 

Bar-tender's Story (The) Anonymous 59 

Bender on Macbeth Yon Boyle 54 

Breaking up a School B.J. Burdette 108 

Brother Gardner and Judge Cadaver M. Quad 123 

Cat-Astrophe (The) Anonymous 120 

Dead Wife's Portrait (The) A nonymous 141 

Death of the Wife Anonymous 127 

Deserter (The) Mary A. Barr 40 

Estray M. Quad 137 

Fifine Stanley Huntley 115 

Free Seat (A) Anonymous 71 

Heap o' Difference (A) Von Boyle 13 

He Fired his Father's Gun Anonymous 51 

Hezekiah Bedott Francis M. Whitcher... 31 

His Mother's Songs Anonymous 5 

"Hosses is Hosses." Bret Harte 125 

How the Sunlight Came M. Quad 19 

Idiot Boy (The) Anonymous 156 

If A nonymous 136 

Independent Order of Forty Liars Bill Nye Ill 

Irrepressible (The) A nonymous 161 

Jenks' Infernal Machine Von Boyle 24 

John o' tbe Smithy A. J. E. Duganne 47 

Lady and the Tiger (The) Joseph Kirtland 78 

Leap of the Knight of Altenabe Canon Kingsley 62 

Lecture Artemus Ward 42 

Lime-Kiln Club (The) M. Quad 151 



4 CONTENTS. — RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

PAGE 

Model Love Letter (A) Anonymous 131 

Morning Sketch (A) Annoymous 68 

My first Political Speech Max Adder J84 

Not to be Won that Way Mrs. Browning 167 

Now .Anonymous 154 

O'Conuel and the Fishwoman Anonymous 74 

Our Own Anonymous 130 

Pointer's Dyspeptic Goat Yon Boyle 22 

Pointer's Electric Cat. Von Boyle 7 

Power of Habit (The; Anonymous 175 

Prof Max Addlepate's Scientific Sermon... Von Boyle's adaptation. 63 

River (The) Geo. W.Bungay 18 

Rubber-Hose Macaroni G. W. Peck 97 

Rules for Ladies Travelling Alone B. J. Burdette 172 

Sam's Letter Anonymous 147 

Schlausenheimer's Alarming Glock Von Boyle 101 

Scream of the Eagle Col. P. Donan 179 

Shanghai— Schlausenheimer Imbroglio . . . Von Boyle. 35 

Sim's Little Girl Mary Eartwell 176 

Singing Lesson (The) Jean Ingelow. 86 

Skowhegan Onderdonk's Sunday-School 

Oration... Bill Nye.. 88 

Small Beginnings Charles MacTcay 171 

Small Sweet Courtesies of Life Anonymous 119 

Some Items about Snakes - - - .Stanley Huntley 93 

Spoopendyke Opening Oysters Stanley Huntley 143 

Stranger— An Eastern Legend (The) Wallace Bruce 100 

Story of a Bedstead Anonymous 52 

Telephone Conversation (A) Mark Twain 105 

Two Lovers. George Eliot 165 

Unpublished Page from the Life of George 

Washington. ..'. - Anonymous 49 

Which ShallitBe? Anonymous 9 

W hat Intemperance Does Robert G. Ingersoll 163 

What the Fat Man thought of the Inquisi- 
tive Boy Anonymous 159 



VOIST BOYLE'S 

RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



HIS MOTHER'S SONGS. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Beneath the hot midsummer sun, 
The men had marched all day; 

And now beside a rippling stream, 
Upon the grass they lay. 

Tiring of games and idle jests, 

As swept the hours along, 
They called to one who mused apart, 
"Come, friend, give us a song." 

" I fear I cannot please," he said; 
" The only songs I know 
Are those my mother used to sing 
For me long years ago." 

"Sing one of those," a rough voice cried; 
"There's none but true men here; 
To every mother's son of us 
A mother's songs are dear." 

Then sweetly rose the singer's voice 
Amid unwonted calm; 
" Am I a soldier of the Cross, 
A follower of the Lamb." 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

" And shall I fear to own His cause " — 
The very stream was stilled; 
And hearts that never throbbed with fear, 
"With tender thoughts were rilled. 

Ended the song, the singer said, 
As to his feet he rose, 
" Thanks to you all, my friends, good night, 
God grant us sweet repose." 

" Sing us one more," the captain begged ; 
The soldier bent his head; 
Then glancing 'round, with smiling lips, 
" You'll join with me," he said. 

" We'll sing this old familiar air, 

Sweet as the bugle call; 
' All hail the power of Jesus' name, 

Let angels prostrate fall.' " 

Ah, wondrous was the old tune's spell, 

As on the singer sang; 
Man after man fell into line, 

And loud the voices rang. 

The songs are done, the camp is still, 
Naught but the stream is heard; 

But ah, the depths of every soul 
By those old hymns are stirred. 

And up from many a bearded lip, 

In whispers soft and low, 
Rises the prayer the mother taught 

The boy long years ago. 



EECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 7 

POINTER'S ELECTRIC CAT. 

VON BOYLE. 

[Written for this book.] 

Veil, Pointer, he vas a pooty nice feller, but you 
couldn't pelief a vord he say. Dot's his peesness, 
you know — assurance peesness. He assures most 
eferypody ; he's got de most assurance in Harlem. 

He uses all kinds of shtories und nannectotes in 
his peesness. Ven he gits a new vone he comes 
arount und bractices on me mit it ; und if it fits all 
right, he rooshes oud und gatches a gustomer, und 
assures him — his money or his life. 

Von tay he comes gwick my pootcher shtore in, 
und say : 

" Bender, vot you tink apout cats ? " 

Now dot's a nice gwestion to ask a pootcher shtore, 
oxbecially ven he vas full — blendy gustomers all 
arount ! 

"Veil," says I, "cats is pooty goot, if you got 
rats pooty bad. But I got not time to tink apout 
cats or rats chust now, already." 

" I can vait a leetle," says Pointer ; " I vould like 
und got your itea apout cats, too. / tink it vas a 
fery useful insect. You know a cat safed vonce my 
life. I blowed up a powter-makazine mit dot cat, I 
tid. It vas in de var times, und I am in de army. 
Dere vas a Kepel powter-makazine dot had to pe 
blowed up a leetle ; und ve drawed shtraws to see 
vich feller must do dot. De vone vot got de most 
shtraw he had to blow. Veil, I got de shtraw. Oh, 
I felt awful seasick ! It's de last shtraw dot breaks 



8 KECHERCHfi KECITATIONS. 

de gamel's pack, you know, und dot slit-raw broke 
mine heart., pecau.se shtraws show vich vay de vinds 
blow, und I had to blow mineself dot makazine mit 
dot shtraw up. Yell, I got insite of de enemy's 
lines, und I am Talking along dot time, tinking apout 
de old folks at home, yot I vould never saw again, 
my br udder und my sister und my vife und my mut- 
ter-in-law und de peoples vot I owed money ; vhen 
suttenly I saw, kleaming in de kloaming, de dwo eyes 
of a plack cat — a Eepel kitten-cat ; und I gried, 
safed ! safed ! You know, Bender, if you rup up a 
plack cat's pack down de wrong vay agross de fur 
arount, it makes de sharks fly ; pecause a plack cat 
vas scientific, you know ; und I sdudies all apout 
electrics in my gehography pook at sckool. Yell, to 
make a short shtory long, I got bastde bickets O. K., 
und I gets to de makazine, und py goot luck, some- 
pody hat left de toor locked open. Now, you know, 
if you rup a cat's pack, dot cat vill rup you pack 
again mit her pack. So I rupped her pack — on de 
outsite — und den I puts her on de insite of dot mak- 
azine, shut gwick de toor, und roon so vast avay vot 
I can. Yell, I subbose dot cat vent rupping arount 
against dem powder-parrels dill she shtruck a light — 
elecdrick light, you know— und ven I am a guarter 
miles avay, she blowed up dot makazine down shky- 
high ; und shpoiled all dem Repels — killed dem in a 
tousand bieces. I vent pack und gapture.d de fort, 
und de next day I vas bromoted gorporal ; I vas 
only a sergeant pefore dot cat, you know. Yell, I 
must say I felt sorry for dot boor leetle kitten ; und 
I'll told you vhy, In dot same gampaign ve shtruck 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 9 

more as dwendy more makazines, but I couldn't 
found a kitten-cat for loaf or money any vhere. Ben- 
der, do you know if only I had apout eight or six 
fresh plack cats dot time, I vould haf peen a brigadier- 
colonel pefore de var vas over, sure ! " 

Veil, dot vas Pointer's shtory. Ven he gits done I 
told him : 

" Mr. Pointer, you saidt you vanted to know vot 
I tink apout cats. Veil, I nefer like to hurt de feel- 
ings of a assurance achents, but I chust ask vone 
gwestion, Vas dot cat insured ? If not, all I've got 
to say vas dis: If I vas in a peesness vhere you haf 
to dell such shtories like dot, I vould got a can of 
dynamite und rup my pack up against it undil some- 
ting exploded for de penefit of de puplick ! " 

Und Pointer he valked off. 



WHICH SHALL IT BE? 

ANONYMOUS. 

[A rich man who had no children proposed to hi3 neighbor, 
who had seven, to take one of them, and promised, if the parents 
would consent, that he would give them property enough to make 
themselves and their other six children comfortable for life.] 

Which shall it be ? Which shall it be ? 
I looked at John, John looked at me 
(Dear patient John, who loves me yet 
As well as though my hair were jet), 
And when I found that I must speak, 
My voice seemed strangely low and weak : 
" Tell me again what Kobert said ; " 
And then I, listening, bent my head — 
This is his letter: 



10 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" I will give 
A house and land while you shall live, 
If, in return, from out your seven, 
One child to me for aye is given." 

I looked at John's old garments worn; 
I thought of all that he had borne 
Of poverty, and work, and care, 
Which I, though willing, could not share; 
I thought of seven young mouths to feed, 
Of seven little children's need, 
And then of this. 

" Come, John," said I, 
"We'll choose among them as they lie 
Asleep." So, walking hand in hand, 
Dear John and I surveyed our band; 
First to the cradle lightly stepped 
Where Lilian, the baby, slept. 
Softly the father stooped to lay 
His rough hand down in a loving way, 
When dream or whisper made her stir, 
And huskily he said: " Not her ! " 

We stooped beside the trundle bed, 
And one long ray of twilight shed 
Athwart the boyish faces there, 
In sleep so beautiful and fair; 
I saw on James's rough, red cheek 
A tear undried. E'er John could speak 
" He's but a baby, too," said I, 
And kissed him as we hurried by. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 11 

Pale, patient Eobbie's angel face 
Still in sleep bore suffering's trace, 
" No, for a thousand crowns, not him ! " 
He whispered, while our eyes were dim. 

Poor Dick ! bad Dick ! our wayward son — 
Turbulent, restless, idle one — ■ 
Could he be spared ? Nay, He who gave 
Bade us befriend him to the grave; 
Only a mother's heart could be 
Patient enough for such as he; 
" And so," said John, " I would not dare 
To take him from her bedside prayer." 

Then stole we softly up above, 
And knelt by Mary, child of love; 
" Perhaps for her 'twould better be," 
I said to John. Quite silently 
He lifted up a curl that lay 
Across her cheek in a willful way, 
And shook his head: " Nay, love, not thee," 
The while my heart beat audibly. 

Only one more, our eldest lad, 
Trusty and truthful, good and glad, 
So like his father. " No, John, no ! 
I cannot, will not, let him go. " 
And so we wrote in courteous way, 
"We could not give one child away. 
And afterward toil lighter seemed, 
Thinking of that of which we dreamed, 



12 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

Happy in truth that not one face 
Was missed from its accustomed place; 
Thankful to work for all the seven, 
Trusting the rest to One in Heaven ! 



ADDRESS BY ORATOR CLIMAX. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Mr. President and Members of the Exopstock 
Lyceum: Happiness is like a crow perched upon the 
neighboring tip of a far distant mounting, which an 
eager fisherman vainly strives, to no purpose, to en- 
snare. He looks at the crow, Mr. President, and, 
Mr. President, the crow looks at him, and, sir, they 
both look at each other. But the moment he at- 
tempts to reproach him, he banishes away like the 
schismatic taints of the rainbow, the cause of which 
it was the astonishing and perspiring genius of a 
Newton who first deplored and enveloped. Cannot 
the poor man, sir, precipitate into all the beauties of 
Nature, from the loftiest mounting up to the hum- 
blest valley, as well as the man prepossessed of indi- 
gence? Yes, sir; while trilling transports crown his 
view, and rosy hours allure his sanguinary youth, 
he can raise his mind up to the laws of Nature, 
incompressible as they are, while viewing the law- 
less storm that kindleth up the tremenjous rainy 
thunder, and fireth up the dark but rapid light- 
ning, and causeth it to fly through the intensity of 
space, that belches forth those awful and sublime 
meteors through the unfathomable regions of fiery 
hemispheres. Sometimes, sir, seated in some lovely 



RKCHEBCHfi RECITATIONS. 13 

retreat, beneath the shadowy shade of an umbrage- 
ous tree, at whose vernal foot flows some limping, 
stagnant stream, he gathers round him his wife and 
the rest of -his orphan children. He then endeavors 
to distil into their minds useless lessons, and guard 
their juvenile youths against vice and immortality. 
Then, in a clear, sunny evening, when the silvery 
moon is shining forth in all her indulgence and 
ubiquity, he teaches them the first sediments of gas- 
tronomy, and by pointing out to them the bear, the 
liar, and many other fixed invisible consternations 
which are continually involving in their axle-trees 
through the blue cerulean firmament above. From this 
vast ethereal he dives with them to the very bottom 
of the unfathomable oceans, bringing up from thence 
liquid treasures of earth and air. He then courses 
with them on the imaginable wing of fancy, through 
the boundless regions of unimaginable ether, until, 
swelling into impapable immensity, he is forever lost 
in the infinite radiations of his own annihilating 
genius. 



A HEAP O' DIFFERENCE. 

ADAPTED BY VON BOYLE. 

The principal tonsorial artist in our vicinity is a 
colored brother, rejoicing in the high sounding ap- 
pellation of Prof. Washington Madison Jefferson 
Smith. 

He evidently belongs to a titled family; for his 
brother next door displays a coat-of-arms over his 
window with this motto: 

" Dr. Wm. Henry Smith, M. D. , Perfessor ob de 



14 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

art ob whitewashin' — in all colors. Also de boss car- 
pet-shaker ob Harlem." 

Prof. Smith's popularity, however, is perhaps as 
much due to his conversational powers as to the 
artistic manner in which he handles his trusty- 
blade. 

As I seated myself in his comfortable chair, pre- 
paratory to a delightful shave, I gave him an oppor- 
tunity to display his eloquence, by remarking : 

" Professor, I suppose you must very frequently 
think of the difference between the present times and 
the times before the war, don't you ? " 

" Yas, sar. Tas, indeed ! Does you want a close 
shave? — yas, sar. All right, sar. Befo' de wah I 
use to was a slave. Niggers in dose times used to be 
wuff $500 a piece ; but now, niggers ain't wuff a 
cent ! " 

" Professor, I have often wondered why you call 
your people ' niggers.' " 

" Well, I kind o' likes de name, des as de Southern 
people dey does like to be called 'Johnny Eebs,' 
an' de Northern people dey does like to be called 
6 Yankees.' When Milton done writ dat book, dey 
dey calls Buncomb's Pilgrims Lost, he says, 'A 
rose by any oder name would smell as sweet.' I 
spec' hits de same wid neg-rose as any oder rose. 
Hit doan't mak' no diff'rence whether you calls dem 
1 niggers,' ' negroes,' ' cullud-pussons ' or ' American 
citizens of African 'scent' — de scent is dar all de 
same. Hit's mo' important what a man is, dan hit is 
what you calls him. And dar's a heap o' diff'rence 
'bout dat. But long as a man keeps his razors sharp, 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 15 

and uses de bes' shavin' soap, and de bes' pomade, 
he's 'title* to de 'spect ob de whole community, white 
an' black. But, as I was savin', dere's a heap o' dif- 
f rence in de 'stravagant ideas dat people has now-a- 
days, dat dey didn't had befo' de wah. 'Specially de 
cullud people. Now some time ago I called on a cul- 
lud young lady dat I's been payin' my retentions 
to—" 

" Why, you don't mean to say, Professor, that you 
intend to marry again ? " 

"Yes, indeedee! I's got to. I done been a 
widower seven years now, and my chilens growing 
up 'thout any mother to look af dem. I's got to 
marry for de chilen's sake. Well, I wanted to take 
dis young lady 'round to a cake-walk. De cullud 
people, you know, gets togedder an' dey walks 'round 
a table, an' de one dat walks de tallest gets de cake. 
Dat's de 'rigen ob de 'spression — ' She takes de cake ! ' 
So I done writ her a billet-doux — lavender-tinted 
paper and violent ink. It was performed beautiful — 
smelled des like fresh pomade. I say : 

" ' Professor Washington Madison Jefferson Smith 
'sires de felicity ob de companionship ob Miss Magnolia 
Simpson — (dat's her name) — to de freshtivities at de 
cake-walk fo' de benefit ob Zion A. M. E. Church — 
(dat's African Mefodis 'Piscopal, you know) — on de 
16th instant ob de present month. Please be in 
readiness at 7:30 sharp, p. m., in de evening.' 
" ' Tours to command.' " 

" ' Perfessor Smith.' 

"I got most ob dat letter outen one ob dese letter- 
writers; de rest I got outen my own head. Den I sent 



16 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

dat 'round by one ob dese 'Merican Deestric* messen- 
gers. When de evenin' come I was dar on time. De 
young lady's mother showed me into de parlor an' 
lef me dar. In about an hour Miss Simpson sailed 
in, fixing on her 17-button kids. She didn't pay no 
retentions to me; but she jes' glode straight over to 
de winder and look out, den she glid straight over to 
me, an' she says: 

" ' Whar's de transpo'tation ? ' " 

" ' De transpo-what-shion ? ' says I. 

" ' De conveyance— de kerridge — de hack ! ' 

" C I ain't no hack-driver/ says I. 

" c Well, how you 'spec* I gwine to git dar 'thout 
some kind ob weehicle ? ' 

"'A weehicle,' says I; 'well, look hyar, now, ef I 
had knowed you 'sired a weehicle, I would have 
'gaged a fust-class omilybus, or a couple ob deserved 
seats in a hoss-car. Dar's one ob my friends drives 
a Black Maria, an' anoder's got a brand new coal- 
cart, dat I could have got, des as well as not. May- 
be I could borrow dat wheelbarrer next do', an' I 
mout tote you 'round in dat ! ' 

" ' Now I want you to squit your foolishness, an' 
tell me how I's gwine to git dar/ says she. 

" ' I 'spec' you's gwine to hoof it/ says I. 

' ' ' I don't know what you means by dat/ says she. 

" ' Well, ef my language is two copious for your 
diminutive comprehension, I 'spec' I'll have ter 
transmogrify it. I 'spected dat you would h'ist your 
little hoofs, skip de gutter, an' prominade over de 
payment till you 'rove at de freshtivities. I 'spected, 
ef you rid dar at all, you'd go on Shank's hosses.' 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 17 

" 'Perfessor Smith/ says she, ' I don't low no sech 
language in my presence. I was riz an' brung up 
among de highes' social circles ob dis city. I be- . 
longs to de colored elite ob New York ; an' I ain't 
use to no sech talk as dat; an' ef you don't 'mejitly 
'pologize, your room is mo' 'sirable dan you com- 
pany.' " 

" Well, I did not want to raise no scandal in de 
church, so I 'pologized. Den I rushed out an' got a 
hack wid a red-headed hack-driver, an' we driv' 
'round dar in style ! Um ! you ought to seen us ! 
Now dat gal was too delicate to trot aroun' to dat 
church — only a few blocks — but when she got 'cited, 
lookin' at de race, um ! um ! she th'owed her bon- 
net off, hove her shawl on de seat, an' waded in. 
An' she walked aroun' dat table till she took de cake." 

" And then, Professor, you took her, cake and all — 
took her for better or worse, eh ? " 

" Dat's zackly what I did— not. I took and shook 
her." 

" What do you mean ? " 

" Well, hit seemed to me dat 'stid ob 'vestin' in 
silks and satins and 17-button kids, it would be 
better fo' me to get a piece ob plain calico dat would 
look well, wear well an' wash well. Dat would be 
des as well in de long run for me, an' a good deal 
better for my little pickanninies. You see I owns dis 
hyar house; I's done got a little money in de bank, 
an' my chilens getting a good eddycation. Ef I was 
to marry a sensible equinoxial sort of wife, in ten 
years I'd own anoder house; I'd have money in 
anoder bank; my daughters would be well married, 



18 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

an' my boys in some 'spectable bizness. Now, ef I 
married dat 17-button Simpson's gal, wouldn't I cut a 
dash ? But, in less dan a year, I wouldn't have a 
cent in bank; dar would be mortgages all over dis 
house; I'd be workin' for some udder nigger, an' my 
chilen would be runnin' 'round de streets in rags. " 
So I 'eluded dat I would let Miss Simpson slide, an' 
so I's done took an' shook her. Next ! " 
And here I resigned my seat to my successor. 



THE RIVER. 

GEO. W. BUNGAY. 

Clear and cool ! clear and cool ! 
By laughing shadows and dreaming pooL 
Cool and clear i cool and clear ! 
^By shining shingle and foaming weir. 
Under the crag where the ouzel sings ; 
And the ivied wall where the church bell-rings. 
Undefiled for the undefiled; 
Play by me ! bathe in me ! mother and child. 

Dank and foul ! dank and foul ! 

By the smoke-grimed town, in its murky cowl. 

Foul and dank ! foul and dank ! 

By wharf and sewer and slimy bank. 

Darker and darker, the further I go; 

Baser and baser, the richer I grow. 

Who dare sport with the sin-defiled ? 

Shrink from me ! turn from me ! mother and child. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 19 

Strong and free ! strong and free ! 

The flood-gates are open — away to the sea ! 

Tree and strong ! free and strong ! 

Cleansing my stream as I hurry along 

To the golden sands, and the leaping bar, 

And the taintless tide that awaits me afar. 

And I lose myself in the infinite main, 

Like a soul that has sinned and been pardoned 

again. 
Undefiled for the undefiled; 
Play by me ! bathe in me ! mother and child. 



HOW THE SUNLIGHT CAME, 

M. QUAD. 

The sunlight sometimes came into the room, for 
the sunlight was made for the poor as well as the 
rich, and it will pour into crazy shutters and over the 
bare floors just as cheerily as it filters through lace 
curtains and breaks into golden fragments over vel- 
vet carpets. And God's free air came to the deso- 
late room as well, though when it had crossed the 
decaying roofs and lingered for a moment on the 
weather-beaten sills, it was no longer pure. 

Do you know what poverty is ? A gaunt, starved 
woman with great black eyes which had a look of 
hunger and terror, as if the shadow of fate had 
clutched her throat. A bare room — not bare, because 
it contained an old stove, a wretched bed, a broken 
chair, a bench, and — but nothing more. The gaunt, 
starved face women had bread to eat— bread and 



20 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

nothing else. A bare room — bread and water. That 
is poverty. That is what brings to the heart that 
feeling of loneliness aud grim despair, which is poi- 
soned out of life or quenched, like a nickering light, 
in the green waters of the river which creeps softly- 
past the city and carries every burden of sorrow and 
woe to the bosom of the lake. 

"Why did this woman live ? Had life one charm 
for her ? Perhaps she asked herself these questions 
as she sat with her face in her hands and looked out 
upon the cold, cheerless day. There were no tears 
in her great black eyes — only such a look of woe and 
despair that the world should have been there to see 
it, and to have it painted on their hearts. 

" Mother ! " 

A little, wasted form on the wretched bed — a bony 
hand on the ragged quilt — a voice which told of hun- 
ger and pain and weary waiting. 

She bent over him, and for a moment a mother's 
love shone in her eyes, and her wrinkled hand rested 
on his pale face with such tenderness as only a 
mother has. 

" Lift me up and let me see the sunshine," he 
whispered, trying to put his arms around her neck. 

" There is no sunshine," she whispered in reply, a 
sob in her throat. 

" Kiss me, mother, and call me when the sunlight 
comes again," he said. 

She knew that he had been dying for a week — 
sinking slowly and surely into eternity, but she had 
no friends to call in — she could only weep over him, 
and pray God that she might soon follow. With a 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. — ' 21 

gasp and a sob she pressed her lips to his forehead, 
then turned away to struggle with her despair and 
her great sorrow. 

The cloudy, cheerless day faded into dusk. She 
roused herself for a moment, and peered through the 
gloom to see if her boy still slept, and then she whis- 
pered with her thoughts again. And such thoughts ! 

When the darkness covered the bare floor as with 
a mantle, and when she could no longer see her awn 
poverty, the boy suddenly cried out : 

" Mother ! mother ! The sunlight has come ! " 

" Not yet, dear "Ned, not yet ! It is night now." 

"But I see the sun — it lights all the room — it 
blazes into my face ! " he called. 

" There is no sun ; it is cold and dark ! " 

" And it grows brighter ! and I hear such sweet 
music ! and I see little Tommy ! " he whispered, while 
through the darkness she saw his white face grow 
radiant. 

" You are dreaming," she sobbed. 

t ' It was such a bright sun ! The music is so 
sweet ! " he whispered, clasping her hand. 

" It is dark — it is night ! " she gasped, but he did 
not hear. 

The sunlight had truly come, but it was the sun- 
light — the golden rays reflected from the gates of 
heaven — and not the sunlight of earth. The myste- 
rious curtain hiding the valley of death had lifted for 
his spirit to pass under, and woe had been left be- 
hind. 

And of her ? Ask the shadows of night — ask the 
river. When they found his little dead body she was 



22 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

not there. If she is dead, God did not judge her 
harshly. 



POINTER'S DYSPEPTIC GOAT. 

VON BOYLE. 

[Written for this book.] 

Pointer rushes indo mine pootcher shop de oder 
tay, und he say : 

" Bender, dit you know dot go-its vas intichestiple ? 
I mean, dit you efer heard apout a go-it mit de dys- 
bepsia ? " 

Pointer, he vas de man vot geeps de bolicy-shop, 
vone hoondret dwendy-fife shtreets mit de gorner, 
you know. He sells you live-assurance bolicies, 
und ven you die he gifs your vife fife tousand dollars 
abiece, if de house purns town; but if you set him on 
fire yourself, you don't got a cend. 

Now I know dot's a ferry tinicult tings to told ox- 
actly de drue: mit some beobles it vas unbropable, 
mit Pointer it vas unbossiple. He has peen so long 
assurance peesness, dot he has got ghronic enlarge- 
ments of de imachinations. I told him vonce, he 
should saw de doctor apout it, und got waccinadet ; 
but he vouldn't. So I says : 

"Pointer, I got no dime to lisden to vild goose- 
perry shtories apout intichestiple go-its, or any oder 
kind of nonsense. I dont pelief it. " 

"It ain't no nonsense apout it," says Pointer. 
"Now, Bender, you bretent to pe a skientific man, 
vot likes to learn somedings alvays. Now I told you 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 23 

a go-it can haf dysbepsia. I know it py mine own 
exberience. I had it myself — de go-it, I mean. It's 
name vas Nanny — Nanny Go-it. Dot's a pooty 
name; und it vas a pooty go-it. Go-its, you know, 
vas fery egonomical. I used dot go-it for a vaste 
baper pasket, Ven I shpoils a biece of baper, I 
vhistles, und she gomes de vindow up. Den I fling 
der baper into her mout, und she valks off, chews de 
baper, und makes nice go-it's milk oud of it — ten 
cends a quart for vaste baper ! 

"Veil, Nanny vould climb all ofer de rocks, und 
skhip up de site of de house — oh, how she vould go- 
it — alvays seemed happy; und she had a sblendit 
happytight. She vould eat anything, vrom a fine 
gambric anchorchief off de glothes-line, mit your 
name engrafed in de gorner, to a pasket of oyster- 
shells on de half-shell; und she nefer seemed to pe 
droupled mit indichestion. 

" But she died in a strange vay. Some beoble tink 
she gommitted suinsite out of herself. 

" Von tay a noo trug shtore mofed into Harlem, und 
he vasnt acquainted mit my go-it. So he put a 
pasket of dried sponges de door oud, und he leaves 
de cover off. 

"Nanny she gomes along, und she vas pooty 
hoongry. She eat up dem dried shponges, und she 
eat up de pasket, und she licked up de sitewalk, und 
valked herself off. 

"Py-und-by she gomes to a duck-pont, und she 
felt awful dry. She drank up dot pont, und left de 
ducks in de mud; und den she shtarts home. 

" Py de time she got dere, she vas as pig as a cow, 



21 RECHERCHtf RECITATIONS. 

und as light as a feader. Yen de vind blows, sht 
vould roll ofer, und ve had to die her mit a shtring 
like a kite to geep her down. 

" Ye sent for Toctor Sonnenschmidt, de cow-toc- 
tor. Yhen he comes he says, ' I untershtand oxactly 
de case. It vasn't eating de shponges; — it vas 
trinking de vater — hart-trinking — dot's vere she 
made de misdake. De only ting ve can do vas to put 
her in de glothes-wrinker und wrink her dry.' 

" But it vas doo late. Yhile ve vent in to got de 
glothes-wrinker, ve heard a loud noise, like a cannon 
oxbloded. De glasses proke mit de vindows out ; 
und ven ve comes mit de yard out again, de go-it 
vasn't dere. Und de next tay, you could find little 
pieces of shponges all ofer de shtreets of Harlem." 
Dot vas Pointer's shtory. Den I said : 
"Yell, Pointer, vot pecomes of dot go-it ? * 
"Dot's de mystery," says Pointer. "I don't know; 
but I subbose dot go-it died of indichestion. Blease 
sent dwo pounts borter-haus steak right avay ofer 
for preakfast. Goot morning ! " 



JENKS' INFERNAL MACHINE. 

VON BOYLE. 

[Written expressly for this book.] 

Jenks was a genius. 

A genius is a man who can see ten thousand dol- 
lars a great way off; but is frequently unable to per- 
ceive ten cents near enough to get hold of it. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 25 

When Mrs. Skinner opened the front door and 
saw Jenks standing there, she didn't want to let him 
in. She was in doubt whether he was a tramp or a 
lunatic. 

She was about to introduce the watch-dog upon 
the scene, and thus cut short the interview, when 
suddenly the apparition opened its mouth, with a 
strange mechanical motion, and said it wanted board 
for a week, and would be willing to pay in advance. 

Mrs. Skinner was greatly in need of a little money 
to make out her rent. So she took him in; although 
he looked so hungry that a terrific fear crossed her 
mind, that he might get up some night, and eat every 
thing in the house, and then devour the boarders, 
and thus break up her business. 

During the afternoon, a wheelbarrow drove up to 
the front door, and Jenks moved in with his baggage, 
which consisted of a bandbox, one carpet-bag and 
two No. 14J collar boxes. The collar boxes were tied 
with shoestrings; the bandbox was tied with pieces 
of rope and old neckties; and the "gripsack," which 
was down at the heels, and out at the elbows, was 
bandaged all over with handkerchiefs, and in addi- 
tion had a large trunk-strap wound twice around it, 
to prevent spontaneous explosion. 

It appeared to be very heavy, and the fearful sus- 
picion occurred to Mrs. Skinner, that perhaps her 
new boarder was a burglar; although he certainly did 
not look ferocious enough to break open a coal-box, or 
rob a peanut stand. 

He was very quiet at the table. The other board- 
ers tried to "pump" him; but without success. 



26 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

They shrugged their shoulders, and shook their 
heads vaguely, however, as they heard him hammer- _ 
ing away in his room, at his mysterious occupation. 

Whatever their suspicions may have been, however, 
there was no way of verifying them, for Mrs, Skinner 
declared that he never left his room unlocked for a 
moment, when he was out, and that the carpet-bag 
had a combination lock on it, anyway. 

The fact is, Jenks was an inventor. His idea was 
to apply clock work to the phonograph, just as it is 
now applied to music boxes, so that when the in- 
strument is wound up, instead of playing tunes, it 
would make a political speech, sing a jolly song, or 
deliver a heart-rending recitation at the will of the 
operator. 

The machine was intended to be not only " accom- 
plished," but even useful ; for it could be arranged 
to wake one up for an early breakfast by sweetly 
singing " Five o'clock in the morning," or by sternly 
declaring in a deep and penetrating voice : 
" Early to bed, and earl}' to rise, 
Makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." 

Jenks was in the habit of practicing upon the 
machine in a loud voice, singing songs into it, making 
speeches at it, and inserting whole scenes from 
tragedies. 

The boarders were divided in their opinions con- 
cerning the new-comer. Some thought he suffered 
from delirium tremens ; a few opined that he was a 
law-student advocating imaginary causes before in- 
visible juries; others again vaguely hinted their sus- 
picions, that he was a counterfeiter or a burglar, and 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 27 

merely pretended to be an elocutionist to cover up his 
dark schemes. 

Meanwhile Jenks was working faithfully to com- 
plete his machine. The real cause of his secresy was 
his fear that some one would steal his invention. 

One day he suddenly disappeared, and after an 
absence of nearly a week, he as suddenly returned by 
night, when most of the inmates of the house were 
wrapped in slumber. 

He let himself in quietly with his latch-key, and 
then hurried up to his room. The poor fellow was 
no doubt intoxicated — perhaps with the thought that 
fame and fortune promised so soon to be his. 

He placed in the machine the long roll of tinfoil on 
which the speeches, songs and tragedies were print- 
ed, and then wound up the instrument. 

It started off with a vicious click — click ! and then 
came to a dead stop. It was dusty or rusty, and 
needed oiling, and there was not a drop of oil in 
the bottle. 

Inventors are apt to be impatient. Late as it was 
Jenks started out in search of the coveted 
machine oil. 

He had hardly been gone five minutes when the 
machine started again — click — click ! and all of a 
sudden the apparatus began to sing in the most rol- 
licking style, " The Little Brown Jug." 

When it came to the chorus it sounded as though 
there was a double quartette of jugs, little and big, 
and of assorted colors. 

Mrs. Skinner rushed up stairs, battered away on 
Jenks' door, and declared that he was waking up the 



28 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

whole neighborhood, and that if he did not desist 
she would call the police. 

The heartless machine paid no attention to the ex- 
postulations of the landlady until it had sung two 
verses clean through. It then stopped., and all was 
silent. 

Mrs. Skinner endeavored to get Jenks to say 
through the key-hole decidedly whether he intended 
to be quiet — yes or no. 

She could get no answer, however, and was de- 
scending the stairs, to return to her room, when a 
tragic voice broke out upon the stillness of the night 
with : 

" Stand back ! old man; I have a prior claim. Be- 
fore the face of man and heaven I urge it ! I outbid 
yon sordid huckster for your priceless jewel. There 
is the sum twice told. Blush not to take it ; there's 
not a coin that was not bought and hallowed in the 
cause of nations, and with a soldier's " 

Click — click — click ! 

"Sixteen years in the Bastile, and still I cannot 
die ! " 

Click — click — click — click ! " Hurrah — hurrah — 
hurrah for Dick Shaw ! " 

Click — clickety — clickety — click ! and the machine 
stopped suddenly. , 

The boarders, arrayed in curious costumes, came; 
out into the halls to inquire what was the matter, 
and the machine suddenly started again : 

Click— click ! " Fire ! Police ! Murder ! " 

The lady boarders shrieked in chorus. Some faint- 
ed, and others rushed into the street. One of the 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 29 

gentlemen boarders hastily struck the fire-alarm, and 
shouted for the police at the top of his voice. 

Mrs. Skinner, accompanied by a few of the terror- 
stricken inhabitants, took her stand at a point near 
the head of the stairs, and demanded that Jenks 
should come out and explain himself. 

There was no immediate reply. Finally there was 
a preparatory click, and the machine shouted in a 
beseeching voice, " Help, help ! Save me ! Oh, sir, 
have mercy ! Let me not perish thus ! Take my life 
but spare my money ! " 

Upon thik the boarders, summoning up a frenzied 
courage, burst open the door, struck a light, and 
peered into the room. All was still. Nobody was 
there. 

While they stood eyeing each other in mute 
amazement, — " distilled to a jelly by the act of fear," 
the silence was suddenly broken by a dismal voice 
proceeding out of the depths of the closet: 

"I am thy father's ghost, doomed for a time 
to — " clickety — click — click — cli ck i 

The assembly trembled in their stockings. 

At this juncture, the approach of the fire engines 
could be distinctly heard, and the excitement culmin- 
ated, when a member of " the finest police in the 
world " put in an appearance, and declariDg that he 
feared nothing, dead or alive, valiantly entered Jenks' 
room, and threw back the closet door. 

Nothing was to be seen in the mysterious closet 
but the two collar boxes, the dilapidated bandbox, 
and the ancient bald-headed carpet-bag; and the cry 
arose that the house was haunted ! 



30 KECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

At this point, a suspicious sound was heard, like 
that made by the setting of the trigger of a revolver; 
and a blood-curdling, cruel voice shouted : 

" Now then, you carry off the house and TO set 
fire to the girl. Ha ! ha ! Revenge ! Ha ! ha ! " 

The braggart policeman showed the white feather. 
He retreated indiscriminately, but was arrested by 
Mrs. Skinner, and brought back. 

At this point Jenks entered the house with the 
machine-oil; and at the sight of him the boarders* 
hair stood on end. 

Jenks demanded to know the cause of the up- 
roar. 

" Oh, you villain ! " shouted Mrs, Skinner; " you 
have ruined the reputation of my house, but you shall 
suffer for your iniquity. You are a murderer, and 
the spirits of your victims have come back to testify 
against you. Arrest him, officer. That's the man. 
Take him to jail, immediately." 

Now here was something the officer could take hold 
of. So he took hold of Jenks, and told him he was 
under arrest. Jenks refused to accompany him with- 
out his valise. 

" Keep him down stairs there, policeman, " shouted 
Mrs. Skinner; " I'll bring his valise to him. I want 
him to get out of my house as quick as possible." 

Mrs. Skinner hurried to Jenks* room, got the valise, 
and had proceeded half way down to the front door, 
when suddenly a voice within the " gripsack " burst 
forth with: 

" Avaunt! and quit my si«;ht ! let the earth hide thee! 
Thou canst not say I did it. Shake not thy gory locks at me ! " 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 31 

Poor Mrs. Skinner I She thought it was a voice 
from the remains of one of Jenks' victims concealed 
in the carpet-bag ! She shuddered with horror; her 
eyes grew dim; her head swam; she lost her 
presence of mind and her balance. She collapsed 
into a confused heap on the stairs, and rolled rapidly 
to the bottom ; and the carpet-sack chased her all the 
way down. 

Jenks took up the " gripsack, " and the policeman 
took up Jcnks. 

They wended their way to the station house to the 
tune of u We won't go home till morning," sung by 
the machine in a loud voice, and with evident relish. 

Upon explaining the case to the judge. Jenks was 
discharged with a reprimand; but when he returned 
to the mansion of Mrs. Skinner, he found that es- 
timable lady nailing horseshoes over the front door, 
and he was promptly refused admittance. 

He turned sadly away, and disappeared in the 
darkness. No one seems certain of his fate. But it 
is whispered among the knowing ones, that an enter- 
prising speculator having heard of the affair, has 
engaged Jenks (and his machine), at an enormous 
salary, to travel and give spirit-manifestations all over 
the United States. 



HEZEKIAH BEDOTT. 

FRANCIS M. TVHITCHER. 

He was a wonderful hand to moralize, husband 
was, 'specially after he begun to enjoy poor health. 
He made an observation once when he was in one of 



32 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

his poor turns that I never shall forget the longest day 
I live. He says to me one winter evenin' as we was 
a settin' by the fire; I was knittin' (I was always a 
wonderful great knitter), and he was a smokin' (he 
was a master hand to smoke, though the doctor used 
to tell him he'd be better off to let tobacker alone; 
when he was well, used to take his pipe and smoke a 
spell after he'd got the chores done up, and when he 
wa'n't well, used to smoke the biggest part o' the 
time). Well, he took his pipe out of his mouth and 
turned toward me, and I knowed something was 
comin', for he had a pertikeler way of lookin' 'round 
when he was gwine to say anything oncommon. 
"Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly," (my name 
was Priscilly naterally, but he ginerally called me 
"Silly," cause 'twas handier, you know). Well, he 
says to me, says he, " Silly," and he looked pretty 
sollem, I tell you, he had a sollem countenance nater- 
ally — and after he got to be deacon, 'twas more so; 
but since he'd lost his health he looked sollemer than 
ever, and certingly you wouldent wonder at it if you 
knowed how much he underwent. He was troubled 
with a wonderful pain in his chest, and amazin 5 weak- 
ness in the spine of his back, besides the pleurissy in 
the side, and having the ager a considerable part of 
the time, and bein' broke of his rest o' nights 'cause 
he was so put to't for breath when he laid down. 
Why, it's an onaccountable fact, that when that man 
died he hadent seen a well day in fifteen year, though 
when he was married, and for five or six year after, 
I shouldent desire to see a ruggeder man than what 
he was. But the time I'm speakin' of, he'd been out 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 33 

o' health nigh upon ten year, and O, dear sakes ! how 
he had altered since the first time I ever see him ! 
That was to a quiltin' to Squire Smith's a spell afore 
Sally was married. I'd no idee then that Sal Smith 
was a gwine to be married to Sam Pendergrass. 
She'd ben keepin' company with Mose Hewlitt, for 
better'n a year, and everybody said that was a settled 
thing, and lo and behold ! all of a sudding she up 
and took Sam Pendergrass. Well, that was the first 
time I ever see my husband, and if anybody'd a told 
me that I should ever marry him, I should a said — 
but lawful sakes ! I most forgot I was gwine to tell 
you what he said to me that evenin', and when a body 
begins to tell a thing I believe in finishin' on it some 
time or other. Some folks have a way of talkin' 
round and round and round for evermore, and never 
coming to the pint. Now there's Miss Jinkins, she 
that was Poll Bingham afore she was married; she is 
the tejusest individooal to tell a story that I ever see 
in all my born days. But I was a gwine to tell you 
what husband said. He says to me, says he, " Silly." 
Says I, " What? " I dident say, " What, Hezekier ? " 
for I didn't like his name. The first time I ever 
heard it, I near killed myself a lafl&n. "Hezekier 
Bedott," says I, " well, I would give up if I had sich 
a name," but then, you know, I had no more idee o' 
marryin' the feller than you have this minnit o' mar- 
ryin' the governor. I s'pose you think it's curus we 
should a named our oldest son Hezekier. Well, we 
done it to please father and mother Bedott; it's father 
Bedott's name, and he and mother Bedott both used 
to think that names had ought to go down from gin- 



34 - RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

eration to generation. But we always called him 
Kier, yon know. Speakin' o' Kier, he is a blessin', 
ain't he ? and I ain't the only one that thinks so, I 
gness. Now don't you never tell nobody that I said 
so, but between you and me, I rather guess that if 
• Kezier Winkle thinks she is a gwine to ketch Kier 
Bedott, she is a leeile out of her reckonin'. But I was 
going to tell what husband said. He says to me, 
says he, " Silly." I says, says I, " What ? " If I did- 
en't say " what " when he said " Silly," he'd a kept 
on saying " Silly," from time to eternity. He always 
did, because, you know, he wanted me to pay per- 
tikkeler attention, and I ginerally did; no woman 
was ever more attentive to her husband than what 
I was. "Well, he says to me, says he, "Silly." Says 
I, " What ? " though I'd no idee what he was gwine 
to say; dident know but what 'twas'something about 
his sufferings, though he wa'n't apt to complain, but 
he frequently used to remark that he wouldent wish 
his worst enemy to suffer one minnit as he did all the 
time, but that can't be called grumblin' — think it can ? 
Why, I've seen him in sitivations when you'd a 
thought no mortal could a helped grumblin', but he 
dident. He and me went once, in the dead o' win- 
ter, in a one-hoss slay out to Boonville to see a sister 
o' hisen. You know the snow is amazin' deep in 
that section o' the kentry. Well, the hoss got stuck 
in one o' them flambergasted snow-banks, and there 
we sot, onable to stir, and to cap all, while we was a 
sittin' there, husband was took with a dretful crick 
in his back. Now that was what I call a per dicker merit, 
don't you ? Most men would a swore, but husband 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 35 

dident. He only said, says he, " Consarn it." How 
did we get out, did you ask ? Why, we might a been 
sittin' there to this day fur as 7 know, if there hadent 
a happened to come along a mess o' men in a double 
team, and they hysted us out. But I was gwine to 
tell you that observation o' hisen. Says he to me, 
says he, " Silly," (I could see by the light o' the fire, 
there dident happen to be no candle burnin', if I don't 
disremember, though my memory is sometimes rather 
forgitful, but I know we wa'n't apt to burn candles 
exceptin' when we had company), I could see by the 
light o' the fire that his mind was oncommon solemn- 
ized. Says he to me, says he, " Silly." I says to 
him, says I, "What?" He says to me, says he, 
" We're all poor critters ! " 



THE SHANGHAI-SCHLAUSENHEIMER IM- 
BROGLIO. 

TON BOYLE. 

[Written for this book.] 

Our new neighbor is a Chinese launclryman. He 
moved in only a few days ago, and Schlausenheimer 
has gotten into trouble with him already. 

There is nothing specially marked about this 
particular Mongolian, to distinguish him from the 
rest of his race. In fact, to us "red-haired barba- 
rians," all the Chinese appear to be made of about 
the same material, if not cast in the very same mold. 

Now the party of the first part in this little "af- 
fair," rejoices in the euphonious and suggestive 



36 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

appellation of Shang-Hai; but as he is little over five 
feet tall, the boys call him Shang Low, for short. A 
picturesque " pigtail," three feet long, gayly dangles 
down his back; his complexion is saffron; his nose is 
pug; and he looks out upon the world with an eye 
cut bias. 

One morniDg, bright and early, our friend Schlau- 
senheimer might have been seen wending his way 
toward the Chinese territory, with a plethoric bundle 
under his arm. 

" Dose Shinesers," said he to me some time after- 
wards — " dose Shinesers vas a ferry funny kind of a 
peoples. Dey don't nefer dalk mooch gonfersations 
mit you. You shust go dot shop in, und you say, 
* Vashee — vashee ;' und he says, ' Alls de samee ;' you 
get a ' sheckee/ und you ' valkee offee ;' und dot set- 
tles it." 

When Schlausenheimer received his first "check- 
ee," however, he had little or no conception of its 
nature and value. To him it appeared to be merely 
an oriental advertising device to attract custom; a 
Mongolian business card; a curious chromo; a 
Chinese plaque; a simple piece of brown paper, which 
had been walked over by a hen dipped in Indian ink — 
only this, and nothing more. 

He carried it carelessly down the street, and meet- 
ing with an unpropitious gust of wind, the check was 
suddenly seized from his hand, and carried up 
among the kites that ornament the telegraph wires. 

Schlausenheimer stood and looked up at it for a 
while, but it was not until a wandering street Arab 
called out, "Say, Mister Dutchie, there goes your 



RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 37 

washee ! " — It was not till then that the thought 
flashed across his mind that the fire-cracker wrapper 
was perhaps of some importance. 

At this stage of the proceedings, he hailed me, as 
I happened to pass, explained matters, and asked my 
advice. 

" Well, the only thing you can do," said I, " is to 
go right back and try to get another check. But I'm 
afraid, Schlausenheimer, that you've lost your wash- 
ing." 

" No, I didn't losed de vashings. I shust lose de 
sheck; und ven I goes Vednesday night around to got 
de vashings, I'll git anoder vone." 

One of Schlausenheimer's peculiarities is that he is 
always asking advice, and never taking it. I there- 
fore left him without further suggestions. 

At length the eventful Wednesday evening came; 
and Schlausenheimer went over to the laundry. He 
demanded hi3 " washee," and Shang demanded his 
"checkee." 

" You gottee checkee ? " asked Shang, with the 
sweetest of smiles. 

" No ; I don't got no sheckee. You see de 
vind " 

"No checkee; no washee," interrupted Shang, in a 
sad but firm voice. And he then returned to his 
ironing. 

" Look here vonce, Mr. Shineemans, I vas coming 
arount de corner, und de vind was coming arount 
de oder corner, und I losed de sheckee, you know, 
und " 

" You losee checkee ? " asked Shang, looking up. 



38 1 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

" Yes; dot's it — dot's shust vot I saidt mineself. I 
losed de sheckee." 

With sphinx-like calmness Shang replied solemnly, 
irrevocably: 

"You losee checkee; you losee washee." 

Shang may have had the impression that his visit- 
or was a sneak- thief, a confidence man or one of those 
hoodlums that like "to have a little fun with the 
Chinaman ;" but Schlausenheimer neither knew nor 
cared what Shang Hai thought; he simply felt that 
this is a free country, and he wanted his washing. 

" If you don't gif me dot vashee, I vill pullee your 
pig-tailee dill you nose vas plack as plue all ofer your 
facee, all de samee. You untershtandee ? " 

"Walkee offee; too much talkee," said Shang. "No 
time fcolee; me gotee whole lottee washee." 

Schlausenheimer could not explain himself very 
clearly, of course, neither in Chinese nor in English, 
for that matter; but he gave Shang to understand 
distinctly and emphatically, by pounding on the 
counter, stamping on the floor, waving his hands 
above his head and other similar calisthenic demon- 
strations, that he wanted something or other, and 
he wanted it very badly, too. 

Shang thought he was tight, and that he wanted to 
be put out; which he accordingly proceeded do. 

In the engagement which followed, the numbers 
were very unequal. The German forces consisted of 
one man; and he was unarmed. The Chinese army 
consisted of a battalion headed by Shang Hai and 
many lieutenants, including Ah Sin, Ah Look, Peek 
In, Cum Sing Hai and Hop Long John. 



1 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 39 

Brave Schlausenheimer was defeated, but not con- 
quered. He stood out upon the sidewalk, and pan- 
tomimed to the Chinese to come out, pointing again 
and again to the telegraph wires. 

The Chinese evidently thought he was crazy, and 
that he was trying to rent them the wires to be used 
as clothes-lines; for they merrily laughed in their 
own quaint way — laughed in their sleeves — conven- 
ient sleeves; and knowingly winked at each other. 

Schlausenheimer finally succeeded, however, in 
getting a delegation to come out and listen respect- 
fully to his petition, which was to this effect : 

"Me no gottee no sheckee; aber me vantee mine 
vashee, allee de samee. Vindee blowee, sheckee 
goee up shky-highee, delegraph viree. If you don't 
untershtandee you vas a pig-tail foolee ! " 

This remarkable speech included all that Schlau- 
senheimer knew of the Chinese language. When he 
had finished, he waited anxiously for the result. 

Shang's displomatic response was as follows: 

" Allee lightee, you climb uppee, gettee checkee, 
comee downee, gettee washee. " 

"I don't could glimb up dot delegraph boles, not a 
pit. Tou tinks I vas a monkey-shacks." 

The only reply that Shang deigned to make to this, 
was short, sharp and to the point: 

"No monkey, no climbee; no climbee, no checkee; 
no checkee, no washee." 

Shang, now considering the interview at an end, 
returned with the remainder of the embassy into the 
shop, and resumed business; while poor Schlausen- 
heimer walked away a sadder and a madder man. 



40 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

But the end is not yet. Schlausenheimer swears 
he will have satisfaction; and he is going to law 
about it. He has considerable money. He will 
therefore get satisfaction — the lawyers will get the 
money; and Shang will keep the " washee" until he 
gets his " checkee." 



THE DESERTER. 

MARY A. BARR. 

[From the Trenches at Galveston, 1862.] 

' ' Deserter ! " Well, Captain, the word's about 

right, 
And it's uncommon queer I should run from a fight, 
Or the chance of a fight; I, raised in a land 
Where boys, you may say, are born rifle in hand, 
And who've fought all my life for the right to my 

ranche 
With the wily Apache and the cruel Comanche. 

But it's true— and I'll own it — I did run away. 

' ' Drunk ? " No, sir ! I'd not tasted a drop all the 

day; 
But — smile if you will— I'd a dream in the night, 
And I woke in a fever of sorrow and fright, 
And went for my horse; 'twas up and away; 
And I rode like the wind till the break of the day. 

" What was it I dreamt ? " I dreamt of my wife — 
The true little woman that's dearer than life; 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. ±1 

I dreamt of my boys — I have three — one is ten, 
The youngest is four — all brave little men — 
Of my one baby girl, my pretty white dove, 
The star of my home, the rose of its love. 

I saw the log house on the clear San Antoine, 
And I knew that around it the grass had been mown, 
For I felt, in my dream, the sweet breath of the hay. 
I was there ! for I lifted a jasmine spray; 
And the dog that I love heard my whispered com- 
mand, 
And whimpered, and put his big head in my hand. 

The place was so still; all the boys were at rest; 
And the mother lay dreaming, the babe at her 

breast. 
I saw the fair scene for a moment ; then stood 
In a circle of flame, amid shrieking and blood. 
The Comanche had the place — Captain, spare me the 

rest; 
You know what that means, for you come from the 

West. 

I woke with a shout, and I had but one aim — 
To save or revenge them — my head was aflame, 
And my heart had stood still; I was mad, I dare 

say, 
For my poor horse fell dead at the dawn of the day; 
Then I knew what I'd done, and with heart-broken 

breath, 
When the boys found me out, I was praying for 

death. 



42 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

"A pardon ! " No, Captain; I did run away, 
And the wrong to the flag it is right I should pay 
With my life. It's not hard to be brave 
When one's children and wife are gone over the 

grave. 
Boys, take a good aim ! When I turn to the west, 
Put a ball through my heart; it's kindest and best. 



He lifted his hat to the flag — bent his head, 
And the prayer of his childhood solemnly said — 
Shouted: "Comrades, adieu!" — spread his arms to 

the west — 
And a rifle ball instantly granted him Rest. 
But o'er that sad grave by the Mexican sea, 
Wives and mothers have planted a blossoming tree; 
And maidens bring roses, and tenderly say : 
" It was Love — sweetest Love — led the soldier 

astray." 



LECTURE BY ARTEMUS WARD. 

You are entirely welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to 
my little picture-shop. 

I couldn't give you a very clear idea of the Mor- 
mons — and Utah — and the Plains — and the Bocky 
Mountains — without opening a picture-shop — and 
therefore I open one. 

I don't expect to do great things here — but I have 
thought that if I could make money enough to buy 






RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 43 

me a passage to New Zealand, I should feel that I 
had not lived in vain. 

I don't want to live in vain. I'd rather live 

in Margate — or here. But I wish when the Egypt- 
ians built this hall they had given it a little more 
ventilation. 

I really don't care for money. I only travel round 
to see the world and exhibit my clothes, These 
clothes I have on were a great success in Ameri- 
ca. 

How often do fortunes ruin young men ! I 
should like to be ruined, but I can get on very 
well as I am. 

I am not an artist. I don't paint myself 

though, perhaps, if I were a middle-aged single lady, 

I should yet I have a passion for pictures 1 

have had a great many pictures — photographs — taken 
of myself. Some of them are very pretty — or 
rather sweet to look at for a short time — and, 
as I said before, I like them. I've always loved 
pictures. 

I could draw on wood at a very tender age. "When 
a mere child, I once drew a small cart-load of 

raw turnips over a wooden bridge. The people 

of the village noticed me. I drew their attention. 

They said I had a future before me. Up to that 
time I had an idea it was behind me. 

Time passed on. It always does, by the way. 
You may possibly have noticed that Time passes 
on. It is a kind of a way Time has. 

I became a man. I haven't distinguished myself at 
all as an artist — but I have always been more or less 



44 RECHEECHE RECITATIONS. 

mixed up with art. I have an uncle who takes 

photographs — and I have a servant who takes 

anything he can get his hands on. 

"When I was in Eome Eome in New York 

State, I mean a distinguished sculpist wanted to 

sculp me. But I said, " No." I saw through the 
designing man. My model once in his hands — he 

would have flooded the market with my busts 

and I couldn't stand it to see everybody going round 
with a bust of me. Everybody would want one, of 
course — and wherever I should go, I should meet the 
educated classes with my bust, taking it home to 
their families. This would be more than my 
modesty could stand and I should have to re- 
turn to America where my creditors are. 

I like art. I admire dramatic art — although I 
failed as an actor. 

It was in my school days that I failed as an act- 
or. The play was the "Kuins of Pompeii." 1 

played the Kuins. It was not a very success- 
ful performance — but it was better than the " Burn- 
ing Mountain." He was not good. He was a bad 
Vesuvius. 

The remembrance often makes me ask — "Where 

are the boys of my youth ? " 1 assure you this is 

not a conundrum. Some are amongst you here 

some in America some are in jail. 

Hence arises a most touching question — ""Where 

are the girls of my youth ? " Some are married 

some would like to be. 

Oh, my Maria ! Alas ! She married another. They 
frequently do. I hope she is happy — because I 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 45 

am. Some people are not happy. I have noticed 

that. 

A gentleman friend of mine came to me one day 
with tears in his eyes. I said, " Why these weeps ? " 
He said he had a mortgage on his farm — and wanted 
to borrow .£200. I lent him the money — and he 
went away. Some time after he returned with more 
tears. He said he must leave me forever. I ventured 
to remind him of the £200 he had borrowed. He 
was much cut up. I thought I would not be hard 
upon him — so I told him I would throw off one hun- 
dred pounds. He brightened — shook my hand — and 
said — " Old friend — I won't allow you to outdo me in 
liberality— 111 throw off the other hundred." 

As a manager I was always rather more successful 
than as an actor. 

Some years ago I engaged a celebrated Living 
American Skeleton for a tour through Australia, He 
was the thinnest man I ever saw. He was a splendid 
skeleton. He didn't weigh anything scarcely — and I 
said to myself — the people of Australia will flock to 
see this tremendous curiosity. It is a long voyage — 
as you know — from New York to Melbourne — and to 
my utter surprise, the skeleton had no sooner got 
out to sea, than he commenced eating in the most 
horrible manner. He had never been on the ocean 
before — and he said it agreed with him. I 

thought so ! 1 never saw a man eat so much 

in my life. Beef — mutton — pork he swallowed 

them all like a shark and between meals he was 

often discovered behind barrels eating hard-boiled 
eggs. The result was that when we reached Mel- 



4:6 recherch£ recitations. 

bourne, this infamous skeleton weighed sixty-four 
pounds more than I did. 

I thought I was ruined but I wasn't. I took 

him on to California another very long sea voy- 
age and when I got him to San Francisco, I ex- 
hibited him as a Fat Man. 

This story hasn't anything to do with my enter- 
tainment, I know but one of the principal features 

of my entertainment is that it contains so many 
things that don't have anything to do with it. 

I like music. 1 can't sing. As a singist I am 

not a success. I am saddest when I sing. So are 
those who hear me. They are sadder even than I 
am. 

The other night some silver-voiced young men 
came under my window, and sang — " Come where 

my love lies dreaming." 1 didn't go. I didn't 

think it would be correct. 

I found music very soothing when I lay ill with 

fever in Utah and I was very ill 1 was fearfully 

wasted. My face was hewn down to nothing — and 

my nose was so sharp I didn't dare stick it into other 
people's business — for fear it would stay there — 
and I should never get it again. And on 
those dismal days a Mormon lady — she was mar- 
ried — though not so much so as her husband — 
he had fifteen other wives — she used to sing 
a ballad commencing, " Sweet bird — do not fly 

away ! " — . — and I told her I wouldn't. She played 

the accordion divinely — accordionly I praised her. 

I met a man in Oregon who hadn't any teeth — not 
a tooth in his head yet that man could play 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 47 

on the bass drum better than any man I 

ever met. He kept a hotel. They have 

queer hotels in Oregon. I remember one 

where they gave me a bag of oats for a pillow 1 

had night-mares of course. In the morning the 
the landlord said — " How do you feel — old hoss — 
hay ? " — I told him I felt my oats. 



JOHN O' THE SMITHY. 

DUGANNE. 

Smith.— "One who makes or effects anything."— Worcester. 

Down in the vale, where the mavis sings, 

And the brook is turning an old-time wheel, 
From morning till night the anvil rings 

Where John o' the Smithy is forging steel. 
My lord rides out at the castle gate; 

My lady is grand in bower and hall, 
With men and maidens to cringe and wait; 

And John o' the Smithy must pay for all. 

The bishop rides in a coach and four, 

His grooms and horses are fat and sleek; 
He has lackeys behind and lackeys before; 

He rides at a hundred guineas a week. 
The anvil is singing its " ten pound ten," 

The mavis pipes from a birken spray, 
And this is the song that fills the glen : 

" John o' the Smithy has all to pay." 



48 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

John has a daughter rosy and sweet, 

My lord has a son with a wicked eye; 
"When she hears the sound of his horses' feet, 

Her heart beats quicker, — she knows not why. 
She will know very well before the end; 

She will learn to detest their rank and pride, 
"When she has the young lord's babe to tend, 

While the bishop's daughter becomes his bride. 

There will be the old, old story to tell 

Of tyrannous wrong in places high ; 
A bishop glozing the deeds of hell; 

The priest and the Levite passing by. 
And the father may bow his frosted head, 

When he sees the young bride up at the hall, 
And say 'twere better his child were dead; 

But John o' the Smithy must bear it all. 

The smith and his daughter will pass away, 

And another shall make the anvil ring 
For the daily bread and the hodden-gray; 

But the profits shall go to the priest and king. 
And over the wide world, day by day, 

The smiths shall waken, at early morn — 
Each to his task in the old dull way, 

To tread a measure of priestly corn. 

And the smiths shall live on the coarsest fare, 
With little that they may call their own, 

While the idler is free from work and care; 
For the best of all shall go to the drone, 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 49 

And the smith complains of the anvil's song — 
Complains of the years he has wrought and pined, 

For the priests and rulers are swift to wrong, 
And the mills of God are slow to grind. 

But a clear strong voice from over the sea 

Is piercing the murk of the moral night; 
Time is, time was, and time shall be 

That John o' the Smithy will have his right: 
And those who have worn the mitre and crown, 

Who have pressed him sore in body and soul, 
Shall perish from earth, when the grist is ground, 

And the Mighty Miller has claimed his toll. 



UNPUBLISHED PAGE FROM THE LIFE OF 
GEORGE WASHINGTON. 

ANONYMOUS. 

It is the merrysummer time. To him, the mother 
of the father of his country : 

" George dear, where have you been since school 
was dismissed? " 

" Hain't been no where, ma. " 

"Did you come straight home from school, 
George ? " 

" Yes, ma'am ! " 

" But school is dismissed at three o'clock, and it 
is now half-past six. How does that come ? " 

" Got kep' in." 



50 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

"What for?" 

" Missed m' joggrafy less'n." 

"But your teacher was here only an hour ago, and 
said you hadn't been at school all day." 

" Got kep' in yestiddy, then." 

" George, why were you not at school to-day ? " 

"Forgot. Thought all the time it was Satur- 
day." 

" Don't stand on one side of your foot in that man- 
ner. Come here to me. George, you have been 
swimming. " 

" No'rne." 

" Yes, you have, George. Haven't you ? " 

"N o a p." 

"Tell your mother, George ?" 

"Nuck." 

" Then what makes your hair so wet, my son ? " 

" Sweat. I run so fast comin' from school." 

"But your shirt is wrong side out." 

" Put it on that way when I got up this morning 
for luck. Always win when you play for keeps if 
your shirt's on wrong-side out." 

" And you haven't the right sleeve of your shirt 
on your arm at all, George; and there is a hard knot 
tied in it. How did that come there ? " 

" Bill Fairfax tied it when I wasn't lookin'." 

"But what were you doing with your shirt off?" 

" Didn't have it off. He jes' took'n tied that knot 
in there when it was on me." 

" George ! " 

" That's honest truth, he did ! " 

About that time the noble Bushrod came along 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 51 

with a skate strap, and we draw a veil over the dread- 
ful scene, merely remarking that boys do not seem 
to change so much as men. 



HE FIRED HIS FATHER'S GUN. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Now glory to th' United States, 

In whom great glories lie; 
And glory to this king of dates — 

The Fourth day of July. 

Let cannon boom and let bells ring ! 

Unfurl the starry flag, 
And let the grand old ensign swing 

From every peak and crag. 

Though loud the patriot sings, " Hail 

Columbia ! let's rejoice," 
His cry is but a feeble wail 

To our small boy's shrill voice. 

Ere yet the sun in eastern skies 

Above the hills has risen, 
The youth had fled, with glist'ning eyes, 

Like jail-birds out of prison. 

"With Chinese crackers in a jar, 
And punk grasped in his hand, 

He makes a noise that's heard as far 
As Moses' promised land. 



52 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

None knows the joy that he doth feel, 
When soon, in search of fun, 

His buoyant brain doth madly reel — 
He finds his father's gun. 

He seeks some safe, secluded spot, 
"Where no one else will come; 

He fills the gun with wad and shot, 
And then he rams it home, 

Then comes a burst of thunder sound ! 

The boy — oh ! where is he ? 
Ask of the winds that far around, 

With fragments strew the lea ! 



STORY OF A BEDSTEAD. 
[From the San Francisco Wasp.] 

It was night. 

The boarding house was wrapt in tenebrous 
gloom, faintly tinted with an oder of kerosene. 

Suddenly there arose on the air a yell, followed by 
wild objurgations and furious anathemas. 

Then there was a clanking and rattling, as of an 
overturned picket fence, and another yell, with more 
anathemas. The fatted boarders listened, and, 
ghostly clad, tip-toed along to BufTum's room; he of 
BufTum & Bird, second-hand furniture dealers. As 
they stood there, there was a whiz, a grinding, a rat- 
tling and a bang, and more yells. They consulted 
and knocked on the door. 



KECHSItCHE RECITATIONS. 53 

o 

"Come in." 

"Open it." 

"I can't." 

Convinced that Buffum was in his last agony, they 
knocked in the door with a bed post. 

The sight was ghastly. Clasped between two 
sturdy though slender frames of walnut, Buffum, 
pale as a ghost, was six feet up in the air. He 
couldn't move. He was caught like a bear in a log- 
trap. 

" What on earth is it ? " they said. 

" Bedstead — combination. New patent I was tell- 
in' you about," gasped Buffum. 

His story was simple, though tearful. He had 
brought it home that day, and after using it for a 
writing-desk, had opened it out and made his bed. 
He was going peacefully to dream-land, when he 
rolled over and accidentally touched a spring. The 
faithful invention immediately became a double crib, 
and turned Buffum into a squalling wafer. Then he 
struggled, and was reaching around for the spring, 
when the patent bedstead thought it would show off 
some more, and straightened out and shot up in the 
air, and was a clothes-horse. Buffum said he didn't 
like to be clothes, and he would give the thing to 
anybody that would get him out. They said they 
would try. They didn't want any such fire-extin- 
guisher as that for their trouble, but they would try. 
They inspected it cautiously. They walked all 
around it. Then the commission merchant laid his 
little finger on the top end of it. The thing snorted 
and reared as if it had been shot, slapped over with 



54 9 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

a bang, and became an extension table for ten people. 
"When they recovered from the panic, they came back. 
They found the commission merchant in the corner 
trying to get breath enough to swear, while he rubbed 
his shins. Buffum had disappeared, but they knew 
he had not gone far. The invention appeared to 
have taken a fancy to him, and incorporated him in- 
to the firm, so to speak. He was down underneath, 
straddling one of the legs, with his head jammed in- 
to the mattress. Nobody dared to touch it. The 
landlady got a club and reached for its vital parts, 
but could not find them. She hammered her breath 
away, and when she got through and dropped the 
club in despair, the thing spread out its arms with a 
gasp and a rattle, turned over twice, and slapped it- 
self into a bed again, with Buffum peacefully among 
the sheets. He held his breath for a minute, and 
then, watching his opportunity, made a flying leap 
to the floor just in time to save himself from being a 
folding-screen. 

A man with a black eye and cut lip told the Wasp 
editor about it yesterday. He said he owned the 
patent, and Buffum had been explaining to him how 
it worked. 



BENDER ON MACBETH. 

VON BOYLE. 

[Re-arranged for this book.] 

Ladies und Chentlesman op de Harlem Headings 
Glub: Pefore making dot recipitation vich I haf 
selectet for dis efenings, I vill shpoke chust a couble 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 55 

of sj^eaks apout Mr. und Mrs. Macbeth. For fur- 
der informations, see " History apout de Life und 
Death of Macbeth, by Villiam Henry Shakeshpear, 
A. M., Ltf. D., F. E. S.," etc., etc. 

Dere vas vonce a great king in Shcotland, und his 
name it vas Druncan; und he had a great sheneral 
vot could fight pooty veil (und his name vas Mac- 
beth). 

Und vhile Macbeth und anoder sheneral, vot could 
fight also pooty veil (und his name vas Buncomb), 
comes von de vars pack again, und dey meets two 
dree seferal vitches. Veil, you could easy dell vhich 
vas vitch, und vhich vas vitches, pecause dey 
vore vhite night-gowns und proomshticks und 
" svitches " — dem vitches. Dot's de vay you can told 
vhich is vitch, und vhich is vitches; also vhich is 
vhich, und vitch is svitches. Und dem vitches gried 
oud, " Here comes vone vhich is going pe king of 
Shcotland hereaftervards." Und Macbeth he didn't 
could dell vedder dey meant him oder Buncomb, so 
he asked vone old vitch, " Vhich, you old vitch ? " Den 
said dem dree vitches, " De vone vhich is coming to pe 
kiug pooty gwick vas Macbeth." Dot's all apout vitches. 

He wrote em letter to his vife, 

Und sent it to de town of Fife, 

Und said, " My dear, my lofe, my life, 

Sboost vonce go run und got a kernife. 

If you can't cut our lofe in two, 

Den I lofe me as you lofe you, 

Und I'll pe king of Shcotland. 

Dot's all apout poetry. 

Secondly. Macbeth he vas a pooty good feller, und 



56 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

he didn't vant to kill Druncan. He vas so kindt- 
heartet dot if lie vas vonce to kill Druncan, it vould 
almosd kill him. Howefer, he vould rader pe king of 
Shcotland as gone a fishing; but he fought* he vould 
vait shoost a leetle, und den maype if Druncan kills 
himself oder some oder feller. Dot's all apout killing. 

But his vife, Mrs. Macbeth ! She vas de vorst 
vomans vot valks de top of dis vorld on. She calls 
him a cowyard, und said he vas shcart; dot he don't 
know B vrom peans, vhen de pag vas open, und de 
bull puts his foot in it. Dot's all apout peans. 

Veil, dot king he comes to see Macbeth pecause he 
don't know dot he vill got killed. Und dot night 
Mrs. Macbeth she got up, und she vent down, und 
she prought a pig scheese-knife pack vrom dot cel- 
lar out. Den she goes Macbeth's ped-room in, und 
she pulls him of his ped out, und she say: 

" Yoonk man, if you don't go in und grab Drun- 
can, und shtab Druncan until he vas deadt Druncan, 
I vill kick you pooty gwick out of two bales of hay. " 

Veil, now, ain't dose a nice shpecimens of lan- 
guages to say apout her own huspand right pefore of 
his pack ? Vomans vas de shtrangest kind of beoples 
vot you can't find nefer out. Anypody vot vas a fool 
vould tink dot Mrs. Macbeth vas a voman's rights. I 
vould tink so mineself — if I vas a fool. But chenerally 
vhen dot vomans vas de "boss " of de haus, she don't 
like to pe called shtrong-minded; und if you calls 
her a voman's rights, she vill hit you mit de proom- 
shtick. Dot's all apout vomens. 

Veil, Mrs. Macbeth she had de mostest ampition 
vot you nefer saw. She vants him to pe de king, so 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 57 

she could be de gueen of Shcotland; und eferpody 
vot shtands in de vay, she makes her oldt man kill 
him in pieces. But py-und-py sometings don't agree 
mit her; und she gits pad treams. Den she had 
some nambulism — she valks mit her shleep. Dere vas 
a shpot of plood mit her hand; und she don't can got 
him off mit sapolio. Und she valks efery night mit 
her shleep, und says: 

" Vill not dot shpot git up und got ? Aye, dere's 
de rup ! " 

So she rups und rups till she rups herself all avay. 
Dot's all apout Mrs. Macbeth. 

Veil, Mr. Macbeth, you know, he lofed his vife so 
much he vould do anytings she liked; und Mrs. 
Macbeth she lofed him so much dot she vould let 
him do anytings to blease her. So he shtarts for 
Druncan's room to kill him in de dark, ven he vould- 
n't know noting apout it. But on de vay he has 
attack of inflammations of de gonscience; und he 
tinks he sees a ploody tagger in de air; und he makes 
a shpeech apout it. He say: 
" To pe oder not to pe, dot's vot's der matter, — 
Vedder it vas nobler in der mindt we soofer 
Der shlings und arrows of outrageous fortune, 
Or dake arms against ein siege of droubles, 
Und by opposing — put a head auf dem. To die — to 

shleep, 
Nicht mehr ; und by dot shleep to say we endt 
Der ache-heart, und der tousand natural shakes 
Dot flesh got von his ancestors out. Dot's a con- 
sumption 
Devoudly to be wished ! To die— to shleep — 



58 KECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

To shleep ! maybe you got der nightmare dot time. 
Ay ! dere's de scrub; 

For in dose shleep of deaf dot dreams dot comes 
Yen a man shoofles his mortal coil avay some blaces 
Vill mate him sit down und tink a little about dot; 
Dere's der respect dot makes calamitation got sooch 

a long life-time. 
For who would bear der whips und shcorns of time, 
Der oppressor's wrong, der proud man's contoomly, 
Der pangs of despised lofe, der law's delay, 
Der insolence of officers, vomen's rights und wrongs, 
Trade dollars, shcandals, — all dem tings; 
Yhen he himself might his quietus make 
Shoost mit a scheese-knife ? Who vould fardels bear, 
To grunt und sweat oonder a veary life, 
But dot der fraid of somedings after ve got deadt, 
Ven ye shall go to dot gountry vot nobody don't 

know noting aboud, 
Und shtay dere all our life-time, puzzles der yill, 
Und makes us rader bear dose drouble yot ye already 

got, 
As go some blaces else— und maybe got some more! 
So gonscience makes cowyards yon eferybody oudt ! 
Und dhus der native hue of resolution 
Got sick all ofer himself mit der pale cast of fought, 
Und enterprises of great pif und moment, 
On accound of all dese tings already, 
Deir currants durn avay, 
Und lose de name of peesness." 

Veil, dot's all de recipitation. 

But dere vas anoder feller vaiting outsite. He vas 
a sheneral alzo, und his name vas Come On 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 59 

McTough. He vaited dill Macbeth had shpoke his 
leetle bieces, und den he rushes in, full of courage 
und oats-meal, und he shtabbed Macbeth; und he 
cut him up into mince pies ; und he killed him a goot 
deal; und he died. 

Und dot's all apout Macbeth. 



THE BAR-TENDER'S STORY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

When I knowed him at first, there was suthin', 

A sort of a general air, 
That was very particular pleashV, 

And what yon might call debonair. 
I'm aware that expression is Frenchy, 

And rather high-daddy perhaps; 
Which accounts that I have the acquaintance 

Of several quality chaps. 

But he got to increasin' his doses, 

And took 'em more often, he did; 
And it growed on him faster and faster 

Till inter a bummer he slid. 
I was grieved to observe this here feller 

A shovin' himself down the grade ; 
And I lectured him onto it sometimes 

At the risk of spilin' the trade. 

At last he got thunderin' seedy, 
And he lost his respect for himself; 

And all high notions of honor 
Was bundled away on the shelf. 



60 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

But at times lie was dreadful remorseful 
Whenever he'd stop for to think. 

And he'd swear he'd reform himself frequent, 
And end up by takin' a drink. 

"What saved the young feller ? A woman. 

She done it in the singlerest way; 
He come into the bar-room one evenin' 

(He hadn't been drinkin' that day), 
And he sot himself down to a table 

With a terrible sorrowful face, 
And he sot there a groanin' repeated, 

And callin' himself a gone case. 

He was thinkin' and thinkin' and thinking 

And cussin' himself for his fate; 
And ended his thinkin' as usual 

By orderin' a Bourbon straight. 
He was holdin' the glass in his fingers, 

When into the place, from the street, 
There came a young gal like a spirit, 

With a face that was powerful sweet. 

And she glided right up to the table, 

And took the glass gently away ; 
And she says to him, " George, it is over; 

I am only a woman to-day ! 
I rejected you once in my anger, 

But I come to you lowly and meek, 
For I can't live without you, my darling, 

I thought I was strong, but I'm weak. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 61 

" You are bound in a terrible bondage, 

And I come, love, to share it with you; 
Is there shame in the deed? I can bear it; 

For at least to my love I am true; 
I have turned from the home of my childhood, 

And I come to my lover and friend, 
Leaving comfort, contentment and honor, 

And I'll stay to the terrible end. 

" Is there hunger and want in the future ? 
I will share it with you and not shrink ! 
And together we'll join in the pleasures, 

The woes and the dangers of drink." 
Then she raised up the glass firm and steady, 
But her face was as pale as the dead — 
"Here's to wine and the joys of carousals, 
The songs and the laughter," she said. 

Then he riz up, his face like a tempest, 

And took the glass out of her hand; 
And he slung it away stern and savage, 

And I tell you his manner was grand ! 
And he says, " I have done with it, Nelly, 

And I'll turn from the ways I have trod, 
And I'll live to be worthy of you, dear, 

So help me a merciful God ! 

" You have saved me, my love and my darling, 
On a noble and womanly plan; 
Go back to your home till I seek you 
In the garb and the strength of a man." 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



I seen that same feller last Monday 

Lookin' nobby and handsome and game, 

He was wheelin' a vehicle, gentlemen, 
And a baby was into the same. 



LEAP OF THE KNIGHT OF ALTENAHE. 

CANON KINGSLEY. 

[The following poem, by the late Canon Kingsley, was read by 
him before the members of the Allston Club, Baltimore, Md., 
during his visit to this country, and was given by him to them in 
token of the pleasure he had experienced at their hands. It was 
never published, and the original manuscript, from which this is 
set, is the only copy known to be in existence.] 

So the foe is close on the henchmen of mine, 

And the water is well nigh down ! 
Then bring me a draught of the red Ahe wine— 

I never shall drain but this one. 

And bring me my harness, and saddle my horse, 
And lead him me round to the door; 

He must tread such a road to-night, perforce, 
As steed never trod before. 

I have lived my life; I have fought my fight; 

I have drank my share of wine; 
There ne'er was a knight, in wrong or in right, 

Led a merrier life than mine. 

I have lived by the spur for years a score, 

And if I must die on a tree, 
The old saddle tree that has borne me of yore 

Is the properest timber for me. 



RECHERCHE" RECITATIONS. 63 

And now to show bishops and burghers and priests 

How the Altenahe hawk can die ! 
If they smoke the old falcon out of his nest, 

He must take to his wings and fly. 

He harnessed himself by the pale moonshine; 

He mounted his steed at the door; 
He drained such a draught of the red Ahe wine 

As man never drank before. 

He spurred his old horse, and he held him tight. 

And he rode him out over the hall, 
Right over the cliff — straight into the night — 

Three hundred feet of fall. 

They found him next morning, down in the glen, 

With never a bone of him whole; 
But God may have more mercy than man 

On such a bold rider's soul. 



PROF. MAX ADDLEPATE'S SCIENTIFIC 
SERMON. 

VON BOYLE'S ADAPTATION. 

[Arranged for this book.] 

In the city of baked beans, otherwise called Boss- 
town, there is a church of scientific saints who call 
themselves " The Society for ^Esthetic Culchah. " 

They meet every Sunday and listen to learned ser- 
mons or "ethical lectures," as they call them, based 
upon some text taken from the classics; — Aristotle, 



64 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Socrates, Plato, Browning, Emerson are among 
philosophers from whom they draw their inspira- 
tion. 

They are not confined strictly, however, to the 
philosophers as such, — for anything that has become 
a classic is considered worthy of their attention, from 
Homer to Mother Goose. 

The celebrated Prof. Max Addlepate regaled this 
aesthetically ethical and intellectually impressionable 
congregation upon a certain occasion recently, with 
the following remarkable discourse: 

Old Mother Hubbard, 
She went to the cupboard 

To get her poor clog a bone ; 
When she got there 
The cupboard was bare, 

And so the poor dog got none. 

These beautiful words, dear friends, carry with 
them a solemn lesson, and I propose this evening to 
analyze their meaning. Dvbio ergo cogito ; cogito ergo 
sum. 

The genius sees something remarkable in that 
which to others is simply commonplace. 

Now I will call your attention to what I can plain- 
ly read between the lines. 

Firstually and primarily, who was this Mother 
Hubbard ? She was no doubt a person of sesthetie 
culchah. Names are very significant, and her family 
cognomen was doubtless derived from an ancestor 
who was the poet par excellence of Boss-town. A 
poet, therefore a bard; of Boss-town, therefore of the 
Hub ; — the poet of Boss-town, therefore the bard of 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 65 

the Hub, or the Hubbard. Excelsioribus poetaster, 
Hubbub universalis. 

Mother " H.," we see, was old,— an old woman. 
There being no mention of others, we may presume 
she was alone — a lone widow, solitary &n.d. friendless — 
afriendless/emafe. In short, a lone old friendless sol- 
itary female widow woman. 

Yet did she despair ? Did she sit down and weep, 
or read a novel, or wring her hands ? No; she went 
to the cupboard ! 

And here observe that she went to the cupboard. 
She did not wait for the cupboard to come to her. 
She did not hop or skip or jump or use any other 
peripatetic artifice. She solely and merely went to 
the cupboard. 

We have seen that she was old and lonely, and 
now we further see that she was poor. For mark, the 
words are "the cupboard," not "one of the cup- 
boards," or " the right-hand cupboard," or " the left- 
hand cupboard," or "the cupboard above," or "the 
cupboard below," or " the cupboard under the stairs," 
but just " the cupboard; " the one little, humble cup- 
board the poor widow possessed. 

And why did she go to the cupboard ? Was it to 
bring forth golden goblets, or glittering precious 
stones, or costly apparel, or feasts, or any other attri- 
butes of wealth ? No ! It was to get her poor dog a 
bone. 

We are not told whether it was a ham-boue, a jaw- 
bone or a trombone. Presumably it was a pork- 
bone. For in the language of the Latin author, 
Horace (Greeley), Bostonibus et porkabus con beanis 
evray Sundaybus. 



66 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Not only was the widow poor, but the dog, the sole 
prop of her age, was poor too. 

We can imagine the scene. The poor dog crouch- 
ing in the corner, looking wistfully at the solitary 
cupboard, in hope — in expectation, maybe, — to open 
. it. Although we are not told that it did not stand 
"■ already half open or ajar, — a jar of preserves per- 
haps, not a family jar, for there was no family to 
stand a-jar. Paterfamilias non est. 

When she got there 
The cupboard was bare, 
And so the poor dog had none. 

"When she got there." You see, my hearers, 
what perseverance is. You see the beauty of per- 
sisting in doing right. She got there. Nil desperan- 
dum. Toujours a la promenade. 

And how was her noble effort rewarded ? 

1 ' The cupboard was bare." It was bare. There 
were to be found neither oranges, nor gingerbread, 
nor crackers, nor nuts, norlucifer-matches; for the 
cupboard was bare. There were no Charlottes de 
Busse, no Saratoga wafers, no Boston brown bread ! 
no leg of mutton nor porter-house steak, nor Worces- 
tershire sauce nor sheere tomato sauce, nor sauce for 
the goose whick is sauce for the gander, Telegoose or 
Michigan der, as it were, for the cupboard was bare. 

There was but one, only one solitary cupboard in 
the whole of that house, and that one, the sole hope 
of the widow, and the glorious lodestar of the poor 
dog, as it were, was bare. 

And this brave Mother Hubbard, the widow, who 
owned that dog, and whom many thoughtless in- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 67 

dividual® would despise, in that she only owned one 
cupboard, perceived, or I might even say she saw at 
once the relentless logic of the situation, and yielded 
to it with all the heroism of that nature which had 
enabled her without deviation to reach the barren 
cupboard. 

She did not attempt, as some would, to war against 
the inevitable. She did not try, like others, to ex- 
plain what she did not understand. She did 
nothing. The poor dog had none. 

And at this point our information ceases. But do 
we not know enough ? Are we not cognizant of suf- 
ficient? Would we dare to pierce the veil that 
shrouds the ulterior fate of Mother Hubbard, the 
poor dog, the cupboard or the bone that was not 
there ? 

Must we imagine her still standing at the open 
cupboard door, or depict to ourselves the dog still 
dropping his disappointed tail upon the floor — the 
sought for bone still remaining somewhere else? 

Ah, no, my dear friends; we are not so permitted 
to attempt to read the fuchah. Let it suffice for us 
to glean from this beautiful story its many lessons. 

Let it suffice for us to ponder them, to meditate 
upon them, to ruminate over them and to apply 
them; and bearing in mind the natural frailty of our 
natures, let us be guided by this triplicate con- 
clusion : 

Primarily. Avoid being widows. Don't be a widow 
if you can help it. 

Secondarily. Always have more than one cupboard 
full of provisions, and especially bones. 



68 EECHEECHE RECITATIONS. 

Tertiarily. Let us try to avoid keeping dogs that 
are in the habit of getting hungry. 

But, brethren, if we do, if fate has ordained that 
we should be left with a hungry dog and an empty 
cupboard, may we also, without prancing or curvet- 
ing to the right or left, go straight to that cupboard, 
and may future chroniclers be able to write of us as 
in the beautiful words of the poem: 

The little dog laughed to see the sport, 
And the dish ran away with the spoon. 

This, friends, finishes Mother Hubbard — and her 
dog — and the congregation is now dismissed. 



A MORNING SKETCH. 

[Toronto Grip.] 

He wanted his razor-strop. He had just lathered 
his chin in the most exhaustive manner, and was pre- 
paring to put a finer edge on his razor. Now the 
razor-strop was always kept in the washstand draw- 
er, the one nearest the wall. He fancied he always 
put it there himself; certainly he had made it a rule 
to do so. He had already taken out the razor, and 
he now puts his hand mechanically into the drawer 
for the strop. No strop was there ! His hand only 
came in contact with air of a peculiarly exasperating 
thinness. 

" By Jove ! " he thought to himself, as he opened 
the other drawer, " what a singular quality of the fe- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 69 

male rnind that ! not to be able to distinguish be- 
tween two drawers for two days consecutively. Yet 
I would wager anything, Fanny would swear I had 
put the strop in here myself." He was groping dis- 
cursively among what appeared to be the stock in 
trade of a small friseur, but nothing as palpable as a 
razor-strop resisted his touch through the silky fluf- 
finess of the general contents. 

" Where is the confounded thing ? " he exclaimed, 
staring about the room vaguely, but like a man 
whose angry passions are very near the surface. 
" "Why can't they leave my things alone, I should like 
to know ? Fanny ! Fanny ! " he called over the banis- 
ter, with more accent than was absolutely necessary. 
" What the dickens have you done with my razor- 
strop ? " The serene voice of conscious rectitude was 
heard in fluty tones replying: 

" In the washstand drawer, love, the one nearest the 
wall." Now there was something in the fluty tones 
of Fanny, just at that moment, that suggested to her 
husband a second trial of the drawer. For when 
Fanny threw a certain timbre into her voice, he 
usually found that she had the maddening quality of 
being right in regard to the subject under discussion. 
Back he strode into the room, with an uncomfortable 
stiffness about his chin as of dry soap, and pulled the 
drawer out — nay, pulled both drawers out, and 
turned them up side down upon the floor. Positive- 
ly no strop ! By this time there was a grinmess in 
the man's demeanor visible to the meanest capacity, 
and particularly noticeable in his walk, as he strode 
a second time to the head of the stairs. 



70 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Fanny ! " lie shouted in loud impetuous accents, 
"I tell you again it isn't there ! What do you mean 
by always meddling with my shaving things ? " 

The answer was perhaps a trine more staccato than 
before. " Your strop is in the drawer, my dear. I put 
it away yesterday morning, when I found that as 
usual you had left everything on the dressing table." 

" Drawer ! " he is believed to have muttered at this 
point. " I'll draw her ! " and he fairly jumped back 
into the room, and dashing at the bureau, he began 
throwing the contents of each drawer, one after 
another, out upon the floor, with an awful imparti- 
ality that knew no distinctions. But after exhaust- 
ing these receptacles, and shaking and stamping on 
each article they had contained, no razor-strop pre- 
sented its simple proportions to his blazing sight. 
" Fanny ! " he yelled over the banister for a third 
time, in a voice of thunder that curdled the blood in 
the veins of his little children as they sat at their 
early porridge. 

" Fanny ! " 

And then his wife came up-stairs, and stood at the 
door while he danced upon the scene of devastation, 
and brandished a curious weapon in his hand, after 
the fashion of a feathered Feejee or other untamed 
denison of wilds too gruesome to name. 

" This is past believing," he observed. " This is the 
kind of method and order one would expect in Bed- 
lam. Look round this room, will you ? " By Jove ! 
it is too much. Look you, madam, I'll dine at the 
Club after this — and sleep and breakfast there, too ! 
Then perhaps my razor-strop, ha ! ha ! will be forth- 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 71 

coming when I dare to treat myself to the luxury of 
a shave ! Ha ! I'm a monster, of course, to presume 
to shave in my own house. I admit that; but for 
mere curiosity's sake now, I should like to know 
where the strop is ! The coffee's overdone by this 
time, and the bacon sodden; so a few moments spent 
in cheerful conversation cannot hurt the breakfast. 
Did Freddy take it for a hammer, or has Flossy 
dressed it up for a doll ? or did you give it to an 
aesthetic tramp, as you did that file of Grip f " 

Pausing an instant for breath, Fanny took the op- 
portunity of making a single remark : 

" Are you speaking of the razor-strop in your 
hand," asked she softly, " or of some other one ? " 

A peculiar tingling sensation seemed to creep 
along his arm as he heard these words, and he ap- 
peared to shrink together, and to measure several 
inches less than usual in every direction. 

But as he vigorously resumed the operation of 
shapening his razor, which he remembered now he 
had dropped while he applied the lather, he returned 
angrily: 

" Why the deuce didn't you say so before ? " 



A FREE SEAT. 

ANONYMOUS. 



He was old and poor and a stranger 

In the great metropolis, 
As he bent his step thitherward 

To a stately edifice. 



72 EECHERCHfi EECITATIONS. 

Outside he inquires, "What church is this? " 
" Church of Christ," he hears them say; 

" Ah ! just the place I am looking for, 
I trust He is here to-day." 

He passed through the spacious columned door, 

And up the carpeted aisle, 
And as he passed, on many a face, 

He saw surprise and smile. 
From pew to pew, he quietly went, 

Then across the broad front space; 
From pew to pew down the other side, 

He walked with the same slow pace. 

Not a friendly voice had bid him sit 

To listen to gospel truth; 
Not a sign of deference had been paid 

To the aged one by youth. 
No door was opened by a generous hand, 

The pews were paid for — rented — 
And he was a stranger, old and poor, 

Not a heart to him relented. 

As he paused a moment outside to think, 

Then passed into the street, 
Up to his shoulder he lifted a stone, 

That lay in the dust at his feet, 
And bore it up the broad, grand aisle, 

In front of the ranks of pews, 
Choosing a place to see and hear, 

He made a seat for his use. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 73 

And calmly sitting upon the stone, 

Folding his hands on his knees, 
Slowly reviewing the worshippers, 

A great confusion he sees. 
Many a cheek crimsoned with shame, 

Some whisper together sore 
And wish they had been more courteous 

To the stranger, old and poor. 

As if by magic some fifty doors 

Open simultaneously, 
And as many seats and books and hands 

Are proffered hastily; 
Changing his stone for a crimson pew, 

And wiping a tear away, 
He thinks it was a mistake, after all, 

And that Christ came late that day. 

The preacher's discourse was eloquent, 

The organ in finest tone, 
But the most impressive sermon heard 

Was preached by an humble stone. 
'Twas a lesson of lowliness and worth 

That lodged in many a heart, 
And the church preserves that sacred stone, 

That the truth may not depart. 



74 RECHERCHE EECITATIONS. 

O'CONNEL AND THE FISHWOMAN. 
[Abridged expressly for "Von Boyle's Recherche Recitations."] 

One of the drollest scenes that O'Connel ever 
figured in, took place in the early part of his life. 

His talent for vituperative language was early de- 
veloped, and by some he was considered, even in 
these days, a matchless scold. 

There was, however, in Dublin at that time, a cer- 
tain woman, Biddy O'Houlihan by name, who had a 
huckster's stall on one end of the quay, nearly op- 
posite the four Courts. She was a virago of the 
first order. From one end of Dublin to the other, 
she was notorious for her powers of abuse. And 
even in the provinces, Mrs. O'Houlihan' s language 
had passed into currency. 

Some of O'Connel's friends, however, thought he 
could beat her at the use of her own weapons. 

Of this, however, O'Connel himself had some 
doubt. But when one of the company rather too 
freely ridiculed the idea of the young Kerry barris- 
ter's ability to cope with the famous Mrs. O'Houli- 
han, O'Connel, who never liked the idea of being put 
down, professed himself ready to encounter his famous 
rival; it was decided that the contest should come 
off at once. 

The party adjourned to the huckster's stall, and 
there they found the owner herself superintending 
the sale of her small wares. A few ragged loungers 
aad idlers were hanging round her stall, for Biddy 



EECHEKCHE KECITATIONS. 75 

was a " character," and, in her way, one of the sights 
of Dublin. 

O'Conne] was very confident of success. He had 
laid a very ingenious plan for overcoming her, and 
with all the anxiety of an ardent experimentalist, 
waited to put it in practice. He resolved to open 
the attack. 

" What's the price of this walking-stick, Mrs. 
what's-your-name ? " 

"O'Houlihan, sir, is my name; and a good one it 
is, and what have you to say ag'in it ? And one and 
sixpence is the price of the stick, and it's cheap as 
dirt, so it is. " 

" One and sixpence for a walking-stick, whew ! 
whew ! Why, you are no better than an impostor to 
ask one and sixpence for what only cost you four- 
pence." 

" Fourpence your grandmother ! Do you mane to 
say it's chatin' the people, I am? Impostor, in- 
deed ! " 

" Aye, impostor ! and it's that I call ye to your 
teeth." 

" Come, cut your shtick, you cantankerous ould 
jackanapes." 

" Keep a civil tongue in your head, you old diag- 
onal." 

" Stop your jaw ! you pug-nosed badger, or by this 
an' by that, I'll make you go quicker than you came." 

"Don't be in a passion, my old radius; anger will 
only wrinkle your beauty." 

" By the hooky ! if you say another wurrud of your 
imperence, I'll tan your hide for you — an' sorry I'll 



76 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

be for to soil my hands wid such a common good- 
for-nothin' scrub." 

" Oho, boys ! what a passion old Biddy is in — I 
protest as I'm a gentleman " 

" A gintleman! a gintleman ! the likes of you a 
gintleman ! Wisha, that bangs Banagher. Why, 
you potato-faced pippensneezer ! whin did a Mada- 
gascar monkey like you pick up enough common da- 
cency to hide his Kerry brogue ? " 

" Aisy now, don't choke your sell with fine lan- 
guage, you antiquated whiskey-drinking parallelo- 
gram." 

" What's that you call me, you murtherin' ould 
villain ? " 

"I call you a parallelogram; and a Dublin judge 
and jury would support me in saying it's no libel to 
call you so." 

" Tare-an-ouns ! that a dacenc, honest 'ooman like 
me should be called a parybellygrum to her face. 
I'm none of your parybellygrums, you rascally gal- 
lows-bird, you cowardly, sneaking, plate-licking 
blaggard." 

" Oh, not you, indeed ! I suppose you'll deny that 
you keep a hypothenuse in your house ? " 

" It's a lie for you, you rascally robber. I never 
had such a thing in my house, you swindling thief." 

" Why, sure all your neighbors know very well, 
that you not only keep a hypothenuse in your house, 
but also that you have two diameters locked up in 
your garret, and that you go out to walk with them 
every Sunday — you heartless old heptagon, you un- 
mitigated individual ! " 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 77 

" Oh, hear that, — ye saints in glory ! There's bad 
language from a fellow that wants to pass himself for 
a gintleman ! May the divil fly away wid you, you 
mitcher from Munster ! — you flannel-mouth bog- 
trotter ! " 

" But you cannot deny the charge, you miserable 
old submultiple of a duplicate ratio." 

"Go rinse your mouth in the river ! After all the 
bad words you shpake it ought to be dirtier than your 
face, you cantankerous ould chicken of Beelzebub ! " 

"Kinse your own mouth, you wicked-minded old 
polygon ! To the dickens I pitch you, you bluster- 
ing intersection of an antique superficies ! " 

' ' You saucy tinker's apprentice ! if you don't 
cease your jaw, I'll " — But here she lost her breath, 
and likewise lost her temper; for the last volley from 
O'Connel had nearly settled her. O'Connel con- 
tinued nevertheless to berate her, without mercy: 

" While I have a tongue, I'll abuse you, you most 
inimitable periphery. Look at her, boys ! There 
she stands a convicted perpendicular in petticoats. 
There's contamination in her circumference, and she 
trembles with guilt down to the extremities of her 
corollaries. Ah, ha ! you're found out, you rectilinear 
antecedent and equiangular old hag ! 'Tis with you 
the devil will fly away, you porter-swiping similitude 
of the bisection of a vertex." 

At this juncture Mrs. O'Houlihan was so overcome 
with her emotions, that she could no longer contain 
herself. Catching up a saucepan, she aimed it at 
O'Connel's head; and he was forced to beat a hasty 
retreat. It was decided, however, that O'Connel had 
won the victory ! 



78 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



THE LADY AND THE TIGER. 

JOSEPH KIRTLAND. 
PART I. — THE PROBLEM. 

A monarch wise, two ladies fair, 

A youth not blessed with rank or money, 
A royal tiger from his lair, 

These are our dramatis personce. 

The king was great. That potentate 
Full wisely steered the ship of state; 
And most of all his shrewdness showed 
In his majestic Penal Code. 

An amphitheatre, nobly used, 
Served as a court where each accused 
By his own act strict justice got, 
Or, — 'twas his fault if he did not. 

The culprit, real or supposed, 
Was placed before two portals closed; 
Then uncontrolled, self -guided quite, 
He took his choice, 'twixt left and right. 
Behind the one, in wait for him, 
A tiger lurked, severe and grim ; 
The other hid a lovely maid, 
Young, rich, for wedlock all arrayed. 
Which door to open ? Death or life ? 
A beast of prey? A lawful wife? 
No wonder if he gasped and tarried, 
We all do when we're killed or married. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 79 

The trial, from its institution 
Down to the final execution, 
Not having any lawyers in it, 
Took just the space of half a minute. 
On this grand scheme of penal laws, 

So free from doubt, delay, excitement, 
Each of the tiger's separate claws 

Was a " separate clause " in the indictment. 

Said we not well this king was shrewd, 
Who this strong, simple plan pursued ? 
The crowd amused, law vindicated, 
The tigers fed, the maidens mated. 
The king's own daughter's inclination 
Was toward a youth of lowly station, 
And since he was like " Barkis, willin," 
He must have been a hardened villain. 
So the police pursued him — caught him, 
And to the Colosseum brought him; 
And thither came the monarch proud, 
The princess and the baser crowd. 
Behind the scenes another maiden 
Attends, with all her gewgaws laden, 
While close at hand, to left or right, 
The tiger — with his appetite. 
The throng now see the culprit enter, 
And pause at the arena's centre, 
Turn, face to the royal box, and bow; 
Alas, how feels the princess now ? 
She only, favored of the Fates, 
Knows the dread problem of the gates, 
Which hides her rival's hateful face, 



80 KECHEECHE RECITATIONS. 

And which the tiger's lurking-place. 

Her luckless lover vainly tries 

To read her secret in her eyes; 

"What sign can reach his straining sight ? 

She lifts her lily hand — the right; 

He sees the sign, he must obey; 

He bows again, and turns away, 

Faces the double-gated wall, 

Advances firmly, and — that's all. 

Eight here the story halts — the sequel 

Its author left with chances equal. 

Did love decree the youth's survival ? 

Although united to a rival, 

Did Envy conquer Love, and say, 

" The youth shall be the tiger's prey ? — 

What, see her to her bosom take him ? 

I'd rather let the tiger shake him ! " 

This last I know's a harsh suggestion, 

But did she heed it — that's the question ? 

PAET II. — THE SOLUTION. 

This tiger, savage, fierce and strong, 
Had fasted there alone and long, 
And grown to be far hungrier than a 
Quadrupedal Doctor Tanner. 
He sniffed the wall that did divide 
Him from the maiden t'other side; 
One sniff, two sniffs, three sniffs were all, 
Then he forthwith tore down the wall. 

And now Sir Tiger's had his fill, 
Another pound would make him ill; 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 81 

He's no more need for persons raw, 
Than Barnum's tiger — stuffed with straw. 

Too long we've let our hero stand, 

Since his fair princess raised her hand; 

Boldly he opes the right-hand portal, 

Then staggers back in terror mortal ! 

From out the gateway, crouching low, 

The tiger steps, sedate and slow; 

Stops, stoops, unsheaths and sheaths his claws, 

While all may note the awful paws. 

He gives the youth a scornful glance, 

And passes on with looks askance; 

He does not seem to care to eat him, 

Meets him, in fact, but does not meat him. 

He smoothes his whiskers, walks the ring, 

Winks at the princess aud her lover, 

Then smiles serenely at the king, 

And scans the multitude all over. 

His lordly form and bearing made 

Fit setting for the part he played; 

He, on the sands of that theayter, 

From top to toe looked glad-he-ate-her. 

He peered and purred and paced awhile, 

With that same soft seductive smile, 

Then to a shady corner crept, 

And laid him down and sweetly slept. 

The king in this a portent sees. 
Quoth he, while quake the royal knees, 
u Go, daughter, quickly as you can, 
And wed that praiseworthy young man. " 



82 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

The princess trips across the sands 
To where her lover waiting stands; 
They're* married fast, 
'Mid cheers and laughter, 
And then live happy ever after. 

Oft did the swain, in later life, 

Demand the secret of his wife, 

And by all arts strove to oblige her 

To tell which door had hid the tiger.* 

But she, as all historians say, 

Kept silent till her dying day; 

So no step further ever made he 

To solve the problem, " Death or Lady ? ' 



THE BAD BOY GETS A BLACK EYE. 

G. W. PECK. 

[From " Peck's Bad Boy," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] 

" Ah, ha, you have got your deserts at last," said 
the groceryman to the bad boy, as he came in with 
one eye black, and his nose peeled on one side, and 
sat down on a board across the coal-scuttle, and be- 
gan whistling as unconcerned as possible. " What's 
the matter with your eye ? " 

" Boy tried to gouge it out without asking my con- 
sent," and the bad boy took a dried herring out of 
the box, and began peeling it. " He is in bed now, 
and his ma is poulticing him, and she says he will be 
out about the last of next week." 

* " G " pronounced soft. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 83 

" O, you are going to be a prize-fighter, aint you," 
said the groceryman, disgusted. "When a boy 
leaves a job where he is working, and goes to loafing 
around, he becomes a fighter the first thing. What 
your pa ought to do is bind you out with a farmer, 
where you would have to work all the time. I wish 
you would go away from here, because you look like 
one of these fellows that comes up before the police- 
judge Monday morning, and gets thirty days in the 
house of correction.'* And the groceryman took a 
hair brush, and brushed some loose sugar and tea 
that was on the counter, into the sugar barrel. 

" Well, if you have got through with your sermon, 
I will toot a little of my horn," and the boy threw the 
remains of the herring over behind a barrel of pota- 
toes, and wiped his hands on a coffee sack. 

" The way of the black eye was this: I've got a job 
tending a soda fountain, and last night, just before 
we closed, there were two or three young loafers in 
the place, and a girl came in for a glass of soda. 
Five years ago she was one of the brightest scholars 
in the ward school, when I was in the intermediate 
department. She was just as handsome as a peach, 
and everybody liked her. At recess she used to take 
my part when the boys knocked me around, and she 
lived near us. She had a heart as big as that cheese 
box, and I guess that's what's the matter. Anyway, 
she left school, and then it was said she was going to 
be married to a fellow who is now in the dude busi- 
ness, but he went back on her, and after a while her 
run turned her out doors, and for a year or two she 
was iu a concert saloon, until the mayor stopped 



84: RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

concerts. She tried hard to get sewing to do, but 
they wouldn't have her. I guess 'cause she cried so 
much when she was sewing, and the tears wet the 
cloth she was sewing on. Once I asked pa why ma 
didn't give her some sewing to do, and he said for 
me to dry up and never speak to her if I met her on 
the street. It seemed tuff to pass her on the street 
when she had tears in her eyes as big as marbles, and 
not speak to her when I knew her so well, and she 
had been so kind to me at school, just 'cause a dude 
wouldn't marry her; but I wanted to obey pa, so I 
used to walk around a block when I saw her coming, 
'cause I didn't want to hurt her feelings. Well, last 
night she came in the store, looking pretty shabby, 
and wanted a glass of soda, and I gave it to her, and 
O, how her hand trembled when she raised the glass 
to her lips, and how wet her eyes were, and how pale 
her face was. I choked up so I couldn't speak when 
she handed me the nickle, and when she looked up to 
me and smiled just like she used to, and said I was 
getting to be almost a man since we went to school 
at the old school-house, and put her handkerchief to 
her eyes, by gosh, my eyes got so full I couldn't tell 
whether it was a nickel or a lozenger she gave me. 
Just then one> of those loafers began to laugh at her, 
and call her names, and he made fun of her until she 
cried some more, and I got hot and went around to 
where he was, and told him if he said another word 
to that girl, I would maul him. He laughed and 
asked me if she was my sister, and I told him that a 
poor, friendless girl, who was sick and in distress, and 
who was insulted, ought to be every boy's sister for 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 85 

a minute, and any boy who had a spark of manhood 
should protect her, and then he laughed and said I 
ought to be one of the Little Sisters of the Poor, and 
then he took hold of her faded shawl, and pulled the 
weak girl against the show-case, and said something 
mean to her, and she looked as though she wanted 
to die, and I mashed that boy one right in the nose. 
Well, the air seemed full of me for a minute, and he 
got me down and got his thumb in my eye. I guess 
he was going to take my eye out, but I turned him 
over and got on top, and I mauled him until he 
begged, but I wouldn't let him up until he asked the 
girl's pardon, and swore he would whip any boy who 
insulted her, and then I let him up, and the girl 
thanked me, but I told her I couldn't speak to her, 
'cause she was tuff, and pa didn't want me to speak 
to anybody who was tuff; but if anybody ever insult- 
ed her so she had to cry, that I would whip him if I 
had to take a club. I told pa about it, and I thought 
he would be mad at me for taking the part of a girl 
that was tuff; but, by gosh, pa hugged me, and the 
tears come in his eyes, and he said I had got good 
blood in me, and I did just right, and if I would 
show him the father of the boy that I whipped, pa 
said he would whip the old man, and ma said for me 
to find the poor girl, and send her up to the house, 
and she would give her a job making pillow-cases 
and night-shirts. Don't it seem darn queer to you 
that everybody goes back on a poor girl 'cause she 
makes a mistake, and the blasted whelp that is to 
blame gets a chromo. It makes me tired to think of 
it," and the boy gol up and shook himself, and 



86 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

looked in the cracked mirror hanging upon a post, 
to see how his eye was getting along. 

" Say, young feller, you are a thoroughbred," said 
the groceryman, as he sprinkled water on the aspara- 
gus and lettuce, " and you can come in here and get 
all the herrings you want, and never mind the black 
eye. I wish I had it myself." 



THE SINGING LESSON. 

JEAN INGELOW. 
FOR THE CHILDREN. 

A nightingale made a mistake; 

She sang a few notes out of tune; 
Her heart was ready to break, 

And she hid from the moon. 
She wrung her claws, poor thing, 

But was far too proud to speak; 
She tucked her head under her wing, 

And pretended to be asleep. 

A lark, arm-in-arm with a thrush, 

Came sauntering up to the place; 
The nightingale felt herself blush, 

Though feathers hid her face. 
She knew they'd heard her song; 

She felt them snicker and sneer; 
She thought this life was too long, 

And wished she could skip a year. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 87 

* Oh ! nightingale ! " cooed a dove, 
" Oh ! nightingale ! what's the use ? 
You bird of beauty and love, 
Why behave like a goose ? 
Don't skulk away from our sight, 

Like a common, contemptible fowl ! 
You bird of joy and delight, 
Why behave like an owl ? 

' Only think of all you have done; 

Only think of all you can do; 
A false note is really fun 

From such a bird as you. 
Lift up your proud little crest; 

Open your musical beak; 
Other birds have to do their best, 

You need only to speak." 

The nightingale shyly took 

Her head from under her wing, 
And, giving the dove a look, 

Straightway began to sing. 
There was never a bird could pass; 

The night was divinely calm; 
And the people stood on the grass, 

To hear that wonderful psalm ! 

The nightingale didn't care; 

She only sang to the skies; 
Her song ascended there, 

And there she fixed her eyes. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



The people that stood below, 
She knew but little about; 

And this story's a moral, I know, 
If you'll try to find it out ! 



SKOWHEGAN ONDERDONKS' SUNDAY- 
SCHOOL ORATION. 

BILL NYE. 

[From "Forty Liars," by permission of Bel ford, Clark & Co.] 

" As regards impromptu speeches," said Woodtick 
Williams, as he breathed softly on a piece of blossom 
rock, and looked at it earnestly through his pocket- 
glass, " I was never what you might call a natural, 
easy, graceful, extemporaneous speaker in public. 

" I can sit down on a boulder or an old powder- 
keg, and reel anything off to the boys in a tolerably 
loquacious and instructive style, but when I get up 
before a big mob, and begin to scatter a few preg- 
nant gems of thought around among the audience, I 
get wild and skittish, and want to go home. 

" Then when I take my seat, the big ideas that 
adjourned when I was on the rostrum come throng- 
ing back to me, and fill me so full of inspiration and 
dumb yearning and warm, earnest swearfulness, that 
it seems as if I'd bust. 

" Once, I remember, I was called on by the Gen- 
eral Passenger Agent and Acting Manager of a Salt 
Lake Sabbath-school to address the children. The 
floor manager had me down for a thirty minutes' 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 89 

dissertion on ' The Uncertainty of Terrestrial Things,' 
or some such racket as that, and I thought I'd have 
to work it mighty fine, to say all that was surging and 
throbbing in my teeming brain ; but when I sat down 
and mopped the dew off my marble brow, and looked 
at my watch, I found that I'd only been a fraction 
over seven minutes. 

"All that I can remember of that agonizing speech 
is about this: 

" ' Dear children, I'm afraid I'll encroach on your 
time — but — I want to say a word — that is, a few 
words — I won't detain you long — or, at least, not 
very long — a few words about morality and — fire- 
arms. 

" ' Never fool with firearms that have not been 
loaded. Don't do it. 

" ' I once knew a boy who looked down into the 
silent depths of an old double-barrel shotgun that 
had not been loaded since Columbus discovered 
America, and all at once he went crashing through 
the Zodiac, and he is up there somewhere now. All 
we ever found of him was a stone-bruise and the 
place where he had been. O, it's awful ! 

" ' I also knew a little lad with soft, curling hair 
and deep violet eyes. Everybody loved little Eph- 
raim. But one day he turned his attention to the 
mystery that clung to an old smooth-bore that 
Daniel Boone used to have, and that had never been 
loaded since. This gun had stood around in the cor- 
ner for about a century, and been kicked and bat- 
tered by every one, just taking it all pleasantly so 
as to throw people off their guard, and when the 



90 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

hired girl swept up little Ephraim, there wasn't a 
dry eye in the house.' 

"Then I apologized for not saying anything on 
morality, because I had taken up so much time, and 
sat down. 

" But it took old Jim Onderdonk to speak without 
any preparation. We called him Skowhegan Onder- 
donk, because he came from Skowhegan, and he was 
tall enough to whitewash the sky, if he had a step- 
ladder. He never had to stop and cough and take 
a drink of water while he thought of a hard word. 
O, no. Just give him a grown person's dose of 
Cemetery Promoter, and he'd address a caucus or a 
funeral, he didn't care which. 

" One day I heard him speak to the children on 
the subject of ' The Efficiency of Energy.' 

" He always announced his subject beforehand, not 
because he ever alluded to it afterwards in any way, 
but because he had noticed that most public speakers 
had a subject to speak on. 

' ' As near as I can call to mind now, Skowhegan 
Onderdonk spoke about as follows : 

" ' Dear children, did you ever stop to think that 
what we are to-day, and what we will be to-morrow 
and the next day and the day following and next 
week and next month and next year and ail through 
our eventful lives is not so much what we in vain an- 
ticipation regard ourselves retrospectively as what 
we ultimately were or some day might previously 
be? 

" ' Did you ever stop to consider how much we 
may find out by ascertaining? 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 91 

" ' Journeying aclown life's rugged pathway, did 
you ever stop to ponder, dear children, upon the 
cold, hard fact, that the longer you live the older 
you become, and as you acquire knowledge you 
gradually get to knowing more ? 

" 'Ah, let us learn a valuable lesson from this 
eternal truth and flee from that which is what. 

" 'Let us promise ourselves to-day — right now, 
without a moment's delay — that, as we continue to 
ram facts into our systems and glean intelligence, we 
will, at the same time, become better informed. 

1 ' ' Try to impress this never dying truth upon 
your minds: That whatever we do not do at once or 
at some time in the future, unless some one else 
does it, will in all human probability remain un- 
done. 

' ' * "We should learn from this the importance of 
these things that are most essential. 

" ' I might talk to you for hours with pleasure of 
these things, but I cannot take up the time. One 
more suggestion, and I will close. 

" ' You are all young now. The future is before 
you. This will seem singular to you at first, but 
when I explain it to you you will see at once that if 
it were anywhere else it would seem out of place and 
unhappy. 

" ' You will readily perceive that things have been 
so wisely ordered that not only in the economy 
of Nature does the uncertain subsequently follow 
closely upon the already forgotten previously, but 
the hazy and obscure past was at one time the un- 
born germ of the dim and incandescent directly, em- 



92 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

bosomed in the great unknown finally, and shrouded 
in the prismatic colors of the boundless ultimately. 

" ' I am afraid, however, that you do not quite get 
at the never-dying truth that I am trying to eluci- 
date to you. As I said before, the future is before 
you. If you understood this thoroughly, you would 
rejoice that it has been placed in that position, but 
you are now young and you think you can see little 
places where Nature has missed it. 

" ' In the fluff and bloom and exuberance of youth, 
you naturally feel as though the general management 
of the universe is open to criticism. You see here and 
there little irregularities in the economy of the uni- 
verse, where you could have improved upon it if you 
had been consulted as to the policy of the adminis- 
tration. This has taken up a great deal of your time, 
and worn you out. When you get older you will 
throw off a good deal of this responsibility, and it 
will be a great relief to you. 

" ' Looking back upon my own childhood, I can see 
here and there in the light of a chastened experience, 
where if I had not done just as I did, perhaps I 
should have done differently. 

" ' Instead of wearing myself out with anxiety, and 
fretting over the fear that my parents would come to 
some bad end, if I had taken more relaxation and 
rest, I would have been better off to-day. Instead of 
trying to improve the time-card of the heavenly 
bodies, if I had rubbed glycerine on the backs of my 
feet, where they were cracked open, I would have 
been happier then, and I would have entered upon a 
useful manhood instead of being the physical wreck 



RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 93 

that I am now, worn out sitting up nights for fear 
that the heavenly bodies would crash into each other. 

" c This is not only true of all things, but of every- 
thing else. 

" ' There is a great field of thought open to you 
here, and I simply call your attention to it. I have- 
n't the time nor ability to enlarge upon it, but I leave 
it for your consideration. As you grow older and 
learn more of the way creation is managed, you will 
gradually endorse it and approve of it until you are 
old and gray-headed, and then you will admit that 
the whole system is arranged and governed as well 
as you could have done it yourself. 

" ' Go where information is turned loose at reduced 
rates, and absorb all you can. Let it soak into you. 
It won't hurt you after you get accustomed to the 
novel sensation a little. 

" ' Then in after years you can write a large ency- 
clopedia of what you don't know, and you will look 
back to this time in your history and thank me for 
calling your attention to these little matters that 
pertain to those things to which they refer, but are 
utterly irrelevant to all other matters with which 
they are in no way connected.' " 



SOME ITEMS ABOUT SNAKES. 

STANLEY HUNTLEY. 

"Do you want some items about snakes?" asked 
an agricultural-looking gentleman of the Eagle's city 
editor the other day. 



94 RECHERCHE EECITATIONS. 

" If they are fresh and true," responded the city- 
editor. 

"Exactly/* replied the farmer. "These items are 
both. Nobody knows 'em but me. I got a farm down 
on the Island a piece, and there's lots of snakes on it. 
Near the house is a pond about six feet deep. A 
week ago my little girl jumped into the pond, and 
would have been drowned if it hadn't been for a 
snake. The snake seen her, and went for her, and 
brought her ashore. The particular point about this 
item is the way he did it." 

" How was it ? " asked the city editor. 

"It was a black snake about thirty feet long, and 
he just coiled the middle of himself around her neck so 
she couldn't swallow any water, and swum ashore 
with his head and tail. Is that a good item ? " 

"First class." 

" You can spread it out, you know. After they 
got ashore the girl patted the snake on the head, and 
it went off pleased as Punch. Ever since then he 
comes to the house regular at meal times, and she 
feeds him on pie. He likes pie. Think you can 
make anything out of that item ? " 

" Certainly. Know any more ? " 

" Yes. I got a baby six months old. He's a boy. 
We generally set him out on the grass of a morning, i 
and he hollers like a bull all day— at least he used to, * 
but he don't any more. One morning we noticed he 
wasn't hollering, and wondered what was up. When 
we looked, there was a rattlesnake coiled up in front 
of him scanning his features. The boy was grinning, 
and the snake was grinning. Bimeby the snake 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 95 

turned his tail to the baby, and backed his rattle 
right into the baby's fist." 

"What did the baby do ? " 

" Why, he just rattled that tail so you could hear 
it three-quarters of a mile, and the snake lay there 
and grinned. Every morning we found the snake 
there, until one day a bigger snake came, and the 
baby played with his rattle just the same till the first 
snake came back. He looked thin, and I reckon he 
had been sick and sent the other snake to take his 
place. Will that do for an item ? " 

" Immensely," replied the city editor. 

" You can fill in about the confidence of childhood, 
and all that, and you might say something about the 
blue-eyed cherub. His name is Isaac. Put that in 
to please my wife." 

" I'll do it. Any more snake items ?" 

"Lemme see. You've heard of hoop snakes ! " 

" Yes, often." 

" Just so. Not long ago we heard a fearful row in 
our cellar one night. It sounded like a rock blast, 
and then there was a hiss, and then things were 
quiet. WTien I looked in the morning I found the 
cider barrel had busted. But we didn't lose much 
cider." 

" How did you save it ? " 

" It seems that the staves had busted out, but be- 
fore they could get away, four hoop snakes coiled 
around the barrel and tightened it up and held it 
together until we drew the cider off in bottles. 
That's the way we found 'em, and we've kept them 
around the house ever since. We're training 'em for 



96 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

shawl-straps now. Does that strike you favorably 
for an item ? " 

" Enormously," responded the city editor.* 

" You can fix it up so as to show how quick they 
was to get there before the staves were blown off. 
You can work in the details." 

" Of course. I'll attend to all that. Do you think 
of any more ? " 

" I don't call any to mind, just at present. My 
wife knows a lot of snake items, but I forget 'em. By 
the way, though, I've got a regular living curiosity 
down on my place. One day my oldest boy was sit- 
ting on the back stoop doing his sums, and he could- 
n't get 'em right. He felt something against his face, 
and there was a little snake coiled up on his shoulder 
and looking at the slate. In four minutes he had 
done all them sums. We've tamed him, so he keeps 
all our accounts, and he is the lightningest cuss at 
figures you ever seen. He'll run up a column eight 
feet long in three seconds. I wouldn't take a reaper 
for him." 

" What kind of a snake is he ? " inquired the city 
editor, curiously. 

" The neighbors call him an adder." 

" Oh, yes, yes ! " said the city editor, a little dis- 
concerted. " I've heard of the species. When did 
all these things happen ? " 

" Along in the fore part of the spring, but I didn't 
say anything about 'em, 'cause it wasn't the season 
for snake items. This is about time for that sort of 
thing, isn't it ? " 

" Yes," chipped in the exchange editor, " you 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 97 

couldn't have picked out a better time for snake 
stories. Take theni over to the cashier's desk. He'll 
buy them of you at twenty-five cents a yard." 



RUBBER-HOSE MACARONI. 

G. W. PECK. 

[From " Peck's Bad Boy," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] 

The bad boy has been for three weeks trying to 
think of some innocent joke to play on his father. 
The old man is getting a little near-sighted, and his 
teeth are not so good as they used to be, but the old 
man will not admit it. Nothing that anybody can 
say can make him own up that his eyesight is failing, 
or that his teeth are poor, and he would bet a hun- 
dred dollars that he could see as far as ever. The 
boy knew the failing, and made up his mind to de- 
monstrate to the old man that he was rapidly getting 
off his base. 

The old person is very fond of macaroni, and eats 
it about three times a week. 

The other day the boy was in a drug store and 
noticed in a show-case a lot of small rubber hose, 
about the size of sticks of macaroni, such as is used 
on nursing bottles and other rubber utensils. It was 
white and nice, and the boy's mind was made up at 
once. He bought a yard of it, and took it home. 
"When the macaroni was cooked and ready to be 
served, he hired the table girl to help him play it on 



98 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

the old man. They took a pair of shears and cut the 
rubber hose in pieces about the same length as the 
pieces of boiled macaroni, and put them in a saucer 
with a little macaroni over the rubber pipes, and 
placed the dish at the old man's plate. 
I Well, we suppose if ten thousand people could have 
had reserved seats, and seen the old man struggle 
with the India-rubber macaroni, and have seen the 
boy's struggle to keep from laughing, they would 
have had more fun than they would at a circus. 
First the old delegate attenrpted to cut the macaroni 
into small pieces, and failing, he remarked that it 
was not cooked enough. 

The boy said his macaroni was cooked too tender, 
and that his father's teeth were so poor that he 
would have to eat soup entirely pretty soon. The 
old man said, "Never you mind my teeth, young 
man," and decided that he would not complain of 
anything again. He took up a couple of pieces of 
rubber, and one piece of macaroni on a fork, and put 
them in his mouth. The macaroni dissolved easy 
enough, and went down perfectly easy, but the flat 
macaroni was too much for him. He chewed on it 
for a minute or two, and talked about the weather in 
order that none of the family should see that he was 
in trouble, and when he found the macaroni would 
not down, he called their attention to something out 
of the window, and took the rubber slyly from his 
mouth, and laid it under the edge of his plate. He 
was more than half convinced that his teeth were 
played out, but went on eating something else for a 
while t and finally he thought he would just chance 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 99 

the macaroni once more for luck, and lie mowed 
away another fork full in his mouth. It was the 
same old story. He chewed like a seminary girl 
chewing gum, and his eyes stuck out and his face 
became red, and his wife looked at him as though 
afraid he was going to die of apoplexy, and finally 
the servant girl burst out laughing, and went out of 
the room with her apron stuffed in her mouth, and 
the boy felt as though it was unhealthy to tarry too 
long at the table, and he went out. 

Left alone with his wife the old man took the rub- 
ber macaroni from his mouth and laid it on his plate, 
and he and his wife held an inquest over it. The 
wife tried to spear it with a fork, but couldn't make 
any impression on it, and then she saw it was rub- 
ber hose, aud told the old man. He was mad and 
glad at the same time; glad because he had found 
that his teeth were not to blame, and mad because 
the grocer had sold him boarding-house macaroni. 
Then the girl came in and was put on the confession- 
al, and told all, and presently there was a sound of 
revelry by night, in the wood-shed, and the still, 
small voice was saying, " O, Pa, don't ! you said you 
didn't care for innocent jokes. Oh ! " And then 
the old man between the strokes of the piece of 
clap-board, would say, "Feed your father a hose- 
cart next, won't ye ? Be firing car-springs and clothes- 
wringers down me next, eh ? Put some sjavy on a 
rubber overcoat, probably, and serve it to me for 
salad. Try a piece of overshoe, with a bone in it, 
for my beefsteak, likely. Give your poor old father 
a slice of rubber bib in place of tripe to-morrow, I ex- 



100 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

pect. Boil me a rubber water-bag for apple dump- 
lings, pretty soon, if I don't look out. There ! You 
go and split the kindling wood." 'Twas ever thus. 
A boy can't have any fun now days. 



THE STRANGER— AN EASTERN LEGEND, 

WALLACE BRUCE. 

An aged man came late to Abraham's tent. 

The sky was dark, and all the plain was bare. 
He asked for bread; his strength was well-nigh 
spent; 

His haggard look implored the tenderest care. 
The food was brought. He sat with thankful eyes, 

But spake no grace, nor bowed he towards the east. 
Safe-sheltered here from dark and angry skies, 

The bounteous table seemed a royal feast. 
But ere his hand had touched the tempting fare, 

The Patriarch rose, and leaning on his rod — 
" Stranger," he said, " dost thou not bow in prayer ? 

Dost thou not fear, dost thou not worship God?" 
He answered, " Nay. " The Patriarch sadly said, 

" Thou hast my pity. Go ! eat not my bread." 



Another came that wild and fearful night. 

The fierce winds raged, and darker grew the sky; 
But all the tent was filled with wondrous light, 

And Abraham knew the Lord his God was nigh. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 101 

" Where is that aged man ? " the Presence said, 

" That asked for shelter from the driving blast ? 
Who made thee master of thy Master's bread ? 

What right hadst thou the wanderer forth to 
cast ? " 
" Forgive me, Lord," the Patriarch answer made, 
With downcast look, with bowed and trembling 
knee. 
" Ah, me ! the stranger might with me have staid, 

But, O, my God, he would not worship thee." 
" I've borne him long," God said, "and still I wait; 
Couldst thou not lodge him one night in thy 
gate ? " 



SCHLAUSENHEIMER'S ALARMING- 
GLOCK. 

VON BOYLE. 

There has been considerable excitement in Harlem 
concerning the arrest of Schlausenheimer upon the 
charge of assaulting Officer Dyonsius O'Brien. Ben- 
der, the butcher, a relative of Schlausenheimer, has 
furnished me the following account of the affair. I 
transmit it verbatim. 

Now I glaim dot bluck vas simbly sooccessful 
shtubborness, und shtubborness vas unsooccessful 
bluck. But Pointer, de assurance achent und mine- 
selef ve get a arguments up on dot vonce. 

"A tisopediant moole," says Pointer, "vot vill 
not shtir a shtep, he vas shtubborn, but a prafe man 
vat vill nefer gif up de sheep, he vas Mucky." 



102 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Yes," says I, " lie vas blacky — if lie soocceeds. If 
he don't soocceeds, den he vas as pig-headet as a 
moole; und dot's vot's de matter mit Schlausenhei- 
mer." 

Now bluck vas a fery goot ting to haf, if it vas 
mixed mit a leetle gommon senses — about halef und 
halef. Gommon senses mitout bluck don't nefer ag- 
gomblishes only chust a leetle; but bluck mitout 
gommon senses aggomblishes a goot teal doo much, 
und ought to pe locked ub mit a lunadics asylum. 

Yell, Schlausenheimer, you know, he chust geeps 
eferytings mit himself yet. He don't nefer told his 
vife someting about notings already. 

Yon day I says : 

" Schlausenheimer, maype it vas petter if you told 
your vife eferyting about sometings und someting 
about eferytings. Your vife vas your bartner." 

" Yell, she's got to pe a silent bartner," says he. 

" Not doo silent," says I. " Yomens has some 
rights dot a man vas pound to exbect." 

" I don't believe no such nonsense," says Schlau- 
senheimer, " not a pit. Dot vas vomen's riots, dot 
vas, und of all kinds of riots — visky riots, election 
riots, und efery oder kind of riots — dem vomen's riots 
vas de vorstest of dem all." 

" Look here," says I, " dot's not a fair arguments, 
pecause you tidn't bronounce dot right. It vasn't ri- 
ots — it vas ri-ds." 

Den Schlausenheimer gets mad. 

"Bi-ots or ri-ets," says he, "I vouldn't haf it in 
mine house. I vas pound to haf eferytings harmoni- 
ousness if I haf to preak de proomshtick, und dot 
settles it." 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 103 

Veil, I didn't said noting more mit him, but I said 
mit mineself, as I valks avay: 

" It vas gwite efitent nadure intented dot Schlau- 
senheimer should pecome a ferst-glass itiot, und 
Schlausenheimer he don't got no opchections." 

Veil, he puyed himself von of dose alarming-glocks, 
you know, vot Takes you out at fife o glock in de 
mornings. He puts him mit de mandel-bieces dere- 
on, und he goes mit de pedt derein. 

Mrs. Schlausenheimer she gets in de mittle of de 
night up, und dot glock vent off — vay off de mandel- 
bieces — vhile Mrs. Schlausenheimer vas py de next 
room looking for a matches. 

Schlausenheimer chumps up und he knocks Mrs. 
Schlausenheimer town in de mittle of his sleep. 

He hit her on de headt of de shtairs, und dey bot* 
rolled to de pottom togedder town, heels over pack- 
vards. 

Mrs. Schlausenheimer, you know, grabbed him py 
de tark, mit de hair from his headt, pecause Schlau- 
senheimer, he tinks, you see, dot she vas all de times 
de burgular vot he vas chust fcreaining apout coming 
to shteal his glock at fife a. m. in de morning. 

Ven dey got mit de pottom of de shtairs de glock 
shtruck vone, und Schlausenheimer he shtruck de od- 
der vone. 

It vas de polices vot runs mit his glub in, to put de 
fire out. Vhack ! he hits Schlausenheimer pack again 
mit his headt. If he had any prains dot times dey 
vouldt come out. It vas a goot ting somedimes to pe 
apsent-minded; und Schlausenheimer's mind has peen 
apsent efer since he is porn. 



104 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Yell, he shust hit him vonce ; but it vas sufficient — 
unci enough vas as goot as a briest. 

He knocked Schlausenheirner into de mittle of last 
veek. He losed a whole veek's vork py it, und he is 
sick more as a mont' apout a year aftervards. 

Dot bolices vouldn't took no oxcooses; but he took 
Schlausenheirner. He took him so gwick you can say 
Chack Kopison mit de shtation-houses. 

Yell, de chudge of de shtation-house he say, " Yot's 
de sharge ? " 

Dot bolicemans vas aggrafatet, so he says, " Salt 
on a bolices." 

De chudge vas exaggerated, und he says, "Fine, 
fife tollars." 

Schlausenheirner vas indignatet, und he says, " Dat's 
a fraudt, und I vouldn't put up mit it." 

So de chudge gifs him fife tollars more fine, for 
content mit de court. 

Now, I don't plame de chudge mineself, pecause he 
called him a superanimatet olt shpringheister, und 
he ought to toldt his vife all apout it pefore he puts 
him mit de mandel-bieces, und dot's de vorst tings 
you couldt call de shudge, anyvay. You know vot 
dot shpringheister vas in Inklish ? Yell, dot means 
a monkey chumping-chack-up-a-shtick, ven you bulls 
him mit a shtring. ? 

Now, dot's de vay mit Schlausenheirner. He did- 
n't vant to lose his money, so he loses his demper, 
und de chudge he find it— fife tollars abiece. 

But if dot chudge couldt only find Schlausenheirner 
fife tollars efery times vot he loses his demper, in less 
as a year dot chudge vouldt pe a millionaire — und 
Schlausenheirner he vould be a poor-haus. 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 105 



A TELEPHONE CONVERSATION. 

MARK TWAIN. 

I notice that one can always write best when some 
one is talking through a telephone close by. Well, 
the thing began in this way. A member of our 
household came in and asked me to have our house 
put into communication with Mr. Bagley's, down 
town. I have observed, in many cities, that the sex 
always shrink from calling up the Central Office 
themselves. I don't know why, but they do. So I 
touched the bell, and this talk ensued: 

Central Office {gruffly)— "Hello ! " 

I—" Is it the Central Office ? " 

C. O.— " Of course it is. What do you want? " 

I — " Will you switch me on to the Bagley's, 
please ? " 

C. O. — "All right. Just keep your ear to the 
telephone." 

Then I heard k-look, k-lcok — klook-klook-klook- 
look-look ! then a horrible " gritting " of teeth, and 
finally a piping female voice: "Y-e-s ! " (rising in- 
flection) "Did you wish to speak to me?" 

Without answering, I handed the telephone to the 
applicant and sat down. Then followed the queerest 
of all the queer things in this world — a conversation 
with only one end to it. Your hear questions asked; 
you don't hear the answer. You hear invitations 
given; you hear no thanks in return. You have lis- 
tening pauses of dead silence, followed by apparent- 
ly irrelevant and unjustifiable exclamation of glad 



106 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

surprise or sorrow or dismay. You can't make head 
nor tail of the talk, because you never hear anything 
that the person at the other end of the wire says. 
Well, I heard the following remarkable series of ob- 
servations, all from the one tongue, and all shouted — 
for you can't ever persuade the se,x to speak gently 
into a telephone: 

" Yes ? Why, how did that happen ? " (pause.) 

" What did you say ? " (pause. ) 

" Oh, no, I don't think it was. (pause.) 

" No, oh, no, I don't mean that. I meant, put it in 
while it is still boiling — or just before it comes to a 
boil." (pause.) 

"What?" (pause.) 

" I turned it over with a back stitch on the selvage 
edge." (pause.) 

" Yes, I like that way, too; but I think it's better to 
baste it on with Valenciennes or bombazine, or some- 
thing of that sort. It gives it such an air — and at- 
tracts so much notice." (pause.) 

"It's forty-ninth Deuteronomy, sixty -fourth to 
ninety-seventh, inclusive. I think we ought all to 
read it often. " (pause. ) 

11 Perhaps so; I generally use a hair-pin." (pause. ) 

" What did you say ? (aside) Children, do be 
quiet ! " ' pause. ) 

" Oh! &flat! Dear me, I thought you said it 
was the cat ! " (pause. ) 

1 ' Since when ? " (pause. ) 

" Why, /never heard of it." (pause.) 

" You astound me ! It seems utterly impossible ! " 
(pause. ) 



k 



EBCHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 107 

' ' Who did ? *' (pause. ) 

"Goodness gracious ! " (pause.) 

"Well, what is this world coming to? Was it 
right in church ? " (pause. ) 

"And was her mother there ? " (pause.) 

" Why, Mrs. Bagley, I should have died of humili- 
ation. What did they do f " (long pause.) 

"I can't be perfectly sure, because I haven't the 
notes by me ; but I think it goes something like 
this :— Te-rolly-loll-loll, loll, lolly-loU-loll, O, tolly- 
loll-loll-Zee-Zi/-^" ^'-do ! And then repeat, you know." 
(pause. ) 

" Yes, I think it is very sweet— and very solemn 
and impressive, if you get the andantino and 
pianissimo right." (pauae.) 

" Oh, gum-drops, gum-drops ! But I never allow 
them to eat striped candy. And of course they can't 
till they get their teeth, anyway." (pause. ) 

" What?" (pause.) 

" Oh, not in the least, — go right on. He's here 
writing; it doesn't bother him." (pause.) 

"Very well, I'll come if I can. (aside) Dear me, 
how it does tire a person's arm to hold this thing up 
so long ! I wish she'd " (pause.) 

" Oh, no, not at all; I like to talk — but I'm afraid 
I'm keeping you from your affairs." (pause.) 

"Visitors?" (pause.) 

"No, we never use butter on them." (pause.) 

"Yes, that is a very good way; but all the cook- 
books say they are very unhealthy when they are out 
of season. And he doesn't like them, anyway — es- 
pecially canned." (pause.) 



108 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Oh, I think that is too high for them; we have 
never paid over fifty cents a bunch." (pause.) 
"Must you go. Well, good-by." (pause.) 
" Yes, I think so. Good-by." (pause.) 
"Four o'clock, then— I'll be ready. Good-by," 
(pause. ) 

" Thank you ever so much. Good-by." (pause.) 
" Oh, not at all ! — just as fresh — Which ? Oh, I'm 
glad to hear you say that. Good-by." (hangs up tele- 
phone and says) " Oh, it does tire a person's arm 
so ! " 

A man delivers a single brutal " good-by," and 
that is the end of it. Not so with the gentle sex — I 
say it in their praise; they cannot abide abruptness. 



BREAKING UP A SCHOOL. 

R. J. BURDETTE. 

It was given out in church, Sunday, that school 
would open on Monday morning. After the evening 
service the boys got together and talked it over, and 
decided to give the new teacher just a week. It had 
been thawing for a day or two, and the boys were 
tired of skating, and they thought they could afford 
to spend about a week educating themselves in how 
to break up a school. On that evening we were duly 
elected a member of the class of hard citizens, 
and we were to open the ball and do something bad, 
get the teacher to lick us, and then the boys were to 
jump in and help. 






RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 109 

Monday morning the school commenced, and the 
teacher proved to be a sickly-looking slim sort of a 
fellow. Every time he looked at one of the boys 
there seemed to be an expression on his face as 
though he would say, " I hope you will be good. " 
When he had anything to say to the scholars he 
said " please, " and gave other evidences of being 
pretty soft, we all thought. 

That morning the weather changed, and it froze 
hard, and at recess the boys got together and said 
we would wind up the school before noon and go 
out on the ice. The big boys had to carry in the 
wood, and lay it down quietly by the stove. We 
took in an armful and dropped it on the floor, so that 
it shook the building and loosened the stove-pipe. 
The pipe came out of the chimney and filled the 
room with smoke; but it was put back, and the slim 
teacher only reprimanded us, and said that it must 
not occur again. We just ached to go after some 
more wood, but there was no opportunity. Pretty 
soon the teacher said we might go and get a pail of 
water, and while at the well we decided to stumble on 
entering the school-room, and spill the water all over 
the floor, and thus give the sickly-looking teacher a 
chance to show what he was made of. 

The teacher was near the stove, and we stumbled, 
and the water went all over everything, wetting his 
boots, and making him pretty mad. In sizing him 
up we had not noticed before that his eyes were as 
black as coals, and that he seemed to be about eight 
feet high ; but as he looked at us we could see it very 
plainly. He seemed to read our thoughts, and knew 



110 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

that it was done on purpose, and we have always 
believed he heard the boys talking it over at recess. 
Anyway he jumped clear across the room, grabbed 
us by the neck, and sat us down in the water; then 
he lifted us up and shook us so our teeth rattled; 
then he seemed to grab us all over, and just maul us. 
We got a chance, once or twice, to look around to 
the back seats, as he was revolving us around on our 
own axis, to see if the other boys were coming to 
help us put him outdoors, but they were the most 
studious lot of big boys we ever saw. They had their 
heads down in their books, and their lips were mov- 
ing in silent prayer. After the teacher had mopped 
the floor with us, he took us by the slack of the 
trousers, just as a dog would carry a duck, and went 
to his desk and got a big hickory ruler, and proceed- 
ed to dry our trousers. It was the meanest way to 
dry trousers that ever was, and while it dried them 
well enough, it left great ridges inside of them that 
made a corrugated chair almost a necessity. 

The boys did not fulfill their part of the pro- 
gramme, and when the teacher got through drying 
our trousers and said: " Please return to your seat/' 
we felt as though his politeness was a perfect sham. 
We looked at the boys when we went to our seat, but 
' they never looked uj3. We have witnessed contested 
seats in the Legislature since, but never saw one that 
was so exciting as that one in the old white school- 
house at the foot of the hill. The teacher never 
spoke during the proceedings, and when it was over 
he looked even paler and more sickly than when he 
had one hand in the hair that once grew where we 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. Ill 

are now bald, while the other was at work in the 
vineyard. But none of the boys seemed to care to 
pitch on a sick man, and he taught that school two 
terms, and never had to whip another boy. That 
was the last school we ever broke up. 



INDEPENDENT ORDER OF FORTY LIARS. 

BILL NYE. 

[From " Forty Liars," by permission of Belford, Clark & Co.] 

At a regular round-up of the Rocky Mountain divis- 
ion of the Independent Order of Forty Liars, on 
Saturday evening, the most noble prevaricator hav- 
ing directed the examination of all present to see 
that they were in possession of the annual password, 
explanations and signals, and to report to the most 
noble promoter of twenty-seven karat falsehoods 
whether all were so qualified to remain, and the re- 
port, having been satisfactory, the most noble pre- 
varicator announced that after the report of the 
custodian of campaign lies for the past year and the 
annual statements of the division bartender and 
most noble beer yanker had been handed in and 
passed upon, the next business to come before the 
division would be the nominations and the election 
of most noble prevaricator to serve during the en- 
suing year. 

' ' Under the rules of our order, " said the M. N. 
P., e ' ten minutes will be given each aspirant for the 



112 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

office named, in which to address the meeting. It is 
understood that the time shall be devoted to short 
anecdotes, personal reminiscences, etc., and the 
brethren will be given ample scope to enlarge upon 
any details which the subject may suggest. Our 
usual custom is to devote at least one hour to this 
highly entertaining exercise, and I call to mind now 
some of the most enjoyable moments of my life spent 
in listening to others, or constructing for the amuse- 
ment of others, a few of the most entertaining and 
instructive falsehoods that the history of our most 
noble order has known. 

"We have several prominent visiting members 
here from other parts of the country, among whom 
I am gratified to name Brother Eli Perkins, Brother 
O'Keefe, of Pike's Peak, and Brothers Morey and 
Barnum, from the East, who will address the meet- 
ing, perhaps, for a few minutes after other business 
has been disposed of. " 

After singing the opening ode, accompanied by the 
lyre, the usual order of business having been attend- 
ed to, the addresses of aspirants for the office of M. 
N. P. of the Pocky Mountain division were called 
for. 

The last speaker was Brother Jedediah Holcomb, 
who thus addressed the assemblage: 

" Most noble prevaricator of the Pocky Mountain 
division of Forty Liars, and brethren of the order: 
Many years ago, when I was a mere stripling, as it 
were, and just upon the verge of manhood, so to 
speak, I was sitting on the green grass, south of 
Chicago, near where Drexel Boulevard comes into 



RECHERCHE RECITATI0N3. 113 

South Park, thinking of my hard luck and wishing 
that my future might be more prosperous than my 
past. 

''That locality was then a howling wilderness 

s compared with what it is now, and where to-day 

the beautiful drives and walks are so inviting there 

was nothing but prairie and swamp, with here and 

there a scrub oak tree. 

" Chicago was a stirring western city then, but she 
was young and small. She had not then accumu- 
lated the fabulous wealth of new and peculiar met- 
ropolitan odors which she now enjoys, and in place 
of the rich, fructifying fragrance of the stock yards, 
there was nothing but the wild honeysuckle and the 
dead horse. 

" Out where some of the most beautiful residences 
now stand there was nothing then but the dank 
thistle nodding in the wind, or the timid pic-nic 
bumble bee, hanging on the autumn bough and 
yearning to be gathered in by the small boy. 

"As I sat there long ago, and, shrouded in the 
September haze, was dreaming of a fortunate future 
for myself, I heard the muffled tread of innumerable 
feet drawing nearer and nearer. The sound was like 
the footfall of a regiment of infantry approaching, 
and I arose to see what it was. 

" I had not long to wait, for soon there hove in 
sight a very singular spectacle. First came a large 
Illinois hog at the head of a long column of Illinois 
hogs, all marching in Indian fashion, and grunting 
with that placid, gentle grunt which the hog carries 
with him. On closer examination into this singular 



Hi RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

phenomenon, I saw that all the hogs, except the 
leader, were blind, each, animal having his prede- 
cessor's tail in his mouth throughout the long line, 
consisting of 13,521 unfortunate, sightless hogs, 
cheerfully following their leader toward water. 

" I was never so struck with the wonderful instinct 
of the brute creation in my life, and my eyes filled 
with tears when I saw the child-like faith and confi- 
dence of each blind animal following with the implicit 
trust the more fortunate guide. 

" Soon, however, a great dazzling three-cornered 
idea worked its way into my intellect. Dashing away 
my idle tears, I drew my revolver and shot off the 
leader's tail, leaving the long line of disconcerted and 
aimless hogs in the middle of a broad prairie, with 
no guide but the dephlogisticated tail of a hog who 
was then three-quarters of a mile away. 

" Then I stole up, and taking the tail in my hand, 
I led the trusting phalanx down to the stock yards, 
and sold the outfit at eight cents per pound, live 
weight. 

" This was the start of my dazzling career as a 
capitalist; a career to which I now point with pride. 
Thus from a poor boy with one suspender and a sore 
toe, I have risen to be one of our leading business 
men, known and resj>ected by all, and by industry 
and economy, and borrowing my chewing tobacco, I 
have come to be one of our solid men." 

"When Brother Holcomb ceased to speak, there 
was a painful silence of perhaps five moments, and 
then Brother Woodtick "Williams moved that the 
rules be suspended, and Brother Holcomb declared 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 115 

the unanimous choice of the order for the Most Noble 
Prevaricator, to serve for the next year. 

Passed. 

Then the quartette sang the closing ode, and each 
member, after hanging up his regalia in the ante- 
room, walked thoughtfully home in the crisp winter 
starlight. 



FIFINE. 

AFTER VICTOR HUGO. 

STANLEY HUNTLEY. 
CHAPTER I. 

Jacques was an organ-grinder. He had a square 
box filled with cast-off gas-pipes. When he twisted 
the crank the air rushed into the pipes, and the 
music came out at the other end. 

Fifine loved to hear Jacques play, and he liked to 
play for her. Jacques loved Fifine, and treasured all 
the sous she gave him. Fifine did not love Jacques, 
and they both knew it. 

" Bon jour, Jacques," said Fifine. 

" Bon jour, Fifine," said Jacques. 

This conversation took place just after the 12th of 
July. 

CHAPTER II. 

Fifine's father was a bourgeois. Jacques' was a 
long primer. Jacques dared not tell of his noble 
birth, lest the hatred entertained for the Bourbons 
should result in his death. For this reason he played 



116 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

the hand-organ. Playing the organ brought him 
near Fifine. 

" What are you doing, Fifine ? " asked Jacques 
one morning as he was twisting " Nancy Lee " out 
of his hand-organ. 

" Washing windows," said Fifine. "I wish I had 
the North Pole to reach that top one." 

Jacques picked up a rock and smashed his hand- 
organ. 

" What have you done, Jacques ? " asked Fifine. 

" Nothing," said Jacques. 

Then he walked off. 

CHAPTER m. 

Jacques walked to the North Cape, and jumped 
into the Arctic Ocean. In four hours he swam to the 
pack ice around Spitzbergen. He climbed up on the 
ice and walked to the eighty-seventh degree of north 
latitude. A polar bear attacked him. When the 
bear opened his mouth Jacques crept in. 

" This is warm," said Jacques. 

" That's cool," said the bear. 

The bear started north and plunged into the open 
sea around the pole. It is claimed by some scientists 
that there is no open sea there. The bear knew bet- 
ter. 

Jacques looked out of the bear's mouth and saw 
he was in a whirlpool. He glanced at his compass 
and saw that the needle pointed to the centre of the 
pool. 

" The north pole is there," said Jacques. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 117 

CHAPTER IV. 

Gervais was a map peddler. He loved Fifine, and 
often presented her with maps of Australia. Gervais 
loved Fifine, but she did not care for him. She used 
his maps to stop up rat-holes. 

" Bon soir, Fifine," said Gervais. 

" Bon soir, Gervais," said Fifine. 

This was while the Bourbons were plotting to 
overthrow the revolution. Danton was dead. 
Bobespierre had unclinched his bloody hand from 
the throat of the people, and the coming carnage of 
March already sent its throbs through the arteries of 
Paris. 

" What are you doing, Fifine ? " asked Gervais. 

" Washing windows," said Fifine. " I wish I had 
the South Pole to reach the top one." 

Gervais threw his maps into the sewer and left. 
In six hours he had reached the Antarctic continent. 

CHAPTER v. 

A seal attacked Gervais. He sprang into the seal 
and settled himself comfortably. 

" This is fun," said Gervais. 

" That's business," said the seal. 

The seal waddled over the ice, and in an hour had 
reached the open polar sea. Gervais looked through 
the seal's eye, and saw he was in a whirlpool, toward 
the centre of which the needle of his compass always 
pointed. 

"The pole is in there," said Gervais; "I shall 
marry Fifine." 



118 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

CHAPTER VI. 

The rings of the whirlpool brought Jacques and 
Gervais to the centre at the same moment. Jacques 
was at the North Pole and Gervais at the South. 
Both pulled at the same time. Neither pole would 
stir. It was a continuous stick, and neither could 
succeed until the other let go. They stopped pulling 
and spit on their hands, and then pulled again. The 
excitement was terrific. They were twenty-two 
thousand miles apart, and neither knew of the other. 
Each was brave and determined, but it was no use. 

" Come out," said Jacques, tugging away. 

" Come up," said Gervais. 

Both poles stuck fast. 

chapter vn. 

" How goes it, Fifine ? " said Francois. 

" First-rate," said Fifine. " I don't wash windows 
any more. We keep a girl." 

Fifine loved Francois. He had been a cardinal, 
but had retired from the business. 

" Let us get married, Fifine," said Francois. 

" Good enough," said Fifine. " Wait till I get my 
hat." 

She came out and saw Gervais and Jacques stand- 
ing at the gate. Each had a long pole on his 
shoulder, broken in the middle. 

" Here is the North Pole, Fifine," said Jacques. 

" This is the South Pole, Fifine," said Gervais. 

" Come, Fifine," said Francois. 

" You can take the poles back, Messieurs. I don't 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 119 

wash windows since we got a girl. Excuse me, I 
am going to marry Francois. " 

chapter vm. 

Francois and Fifine came back married. In front 
of the house they saw two poles standing upright. 
Jacques was at the top of one and Gervais on top of 
the other. 

" Good-by, Fifine ! " said Gervais. 

" Dieu vous garde, Fifine," said Jacques. 

Then they fell off their poles on top of Francois 
and smashed him like a walnut. 

" Great Scott ! " said Fifine. " I don't believe any 
of them are good for much now, but the poles may 
be worth something." 

Fifine laughed, and went into the house. 



SMALL, SWEET COURTESIES OF LIFE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

Some gems there are most beautiful, 

Most rich and pleasant to behold; 
They are not rubies, diamonds, pearls, 

Nor corals yet, and yet not gold; 
They fling a sunshine round the hearth, 

They soothe like balm each troubled strife, 
They gild with joy our homes — they are 

" The small, sweet courtesies of life." 

Our earth would be a lonely place, 

A sad abode without these gems; 
More precious to the heart are they 

Than glittering gold and diadems; 



120 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Without their rays, divine and pure, 
Our path with bitterness is rife; 

Earth would be drear and dark without 
" The small, sweet courtesies of life. " 

Rich boons are they to mortals given, 

Bright blossoms on our pathway laid; 
Sweet flowers whose fragrance will not die, 

Whose glorious lustre will not fade. 
They are the pride of old and young, 

Of brother, sister, husband, wife, 
The father's boast, the mother's joy — 

" The small, sweet courtesies of life." 

If thou would'st have a happy home, 

A cheerful house, a hearthstone bright, 
Keep the rich jewels in thy heart, 

Day after day, night after night. 
If thou would'st banish from thy door 

All bitterness and gloom and strife, 
I charge thee to remember well 

" The small, sweet courtesies of life." 



THE CAT-ASTROPHE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

There was a man named Ferguson, 

He lived on Market street; 
He had a speckled Thomas cat 

That couldn't well be beat; 
He'd catch more rats and mice and sich 

Than forty cats could eat. 



EECHEECHfi KECITATIONS. 121 

This cat would come into the room 

And climb upon a cheer, 
And there he'd sit and lick hisself, 

And purr so awful queer, 
That Ferguson would yell at him — 

But still he'd purr-severe. 

And then he'd climb the moonlit fence, 

And loaf around and yowl, 
And split and claw another cat 

Alongside of the jowl, 
And then they both would shake their tails, 

And jump around and howl. 

Oh, this here cat of Ferguson's 

Was fearful then to see, 
He'd yell precisely like he was 

In awful agony. 
You'd think a first-class stomach-ache 

Had struck a small baby. 

And all the mothers in the street, 

"Waked by that horrid din, 
Would rise right up and search their babes, 

To find some worrying pin; 
And still this vigorous cat would keep 

A hollerin' like sin. 

And as for Mr. Ferguson, 

'Twas more than he could bear, 
And so he hurled his boot-jack out 



122 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Bight through the midnight air. 
But this vociferous Thomas cat, 
Not one cent did he care. 



For still he yowled and kept his fur 

A standin' up on end, 
And his old spine a doublin' up 

As far as it would bend, 
As if his hopes of happiness 

Did on his lungs depend. 

But while a curvin' of his spine, 

And waiting to attack 
A cat upon another fence, 

There came an awful crack, 
And this here speckled Thomas cat 

Got busted in the back. 

When Ferguson came down next day s 

There lay his old feline, 
And not a life was left of him, 

Although he had had nine. 
" All this has come," said Ferguson, 

" Of curvin' of his spine." 

Now all ye men whose tender hearts 
This painful tale does rack, 

Just take this moral to yourselves, 
All of you, white and black; 

Don't ever go, like this here cat, 
To gettin' up your back. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 123 



BROTHER GARDNER AND JUDGE CADA- 
VER. 

M. QUAD. 

" Am Judge Cadaver in de hall to-nighf? " softly 
queried Brother Gardner, as he looked down the 
aisle towards the stool on which the fat and juicy 
judge was unanimously reposing. 

" If de Judge am in de hall he will please step dis 
way," continued the president, after a moment of 
deep silence. 

The judge arose and meandered forward, ener- 
getically chewing at a piece of slippery elm to hide 
his agitation. 

" Brudder Cadaver, I have a few words to say to 
you to-night," said the president as he looked down 
upon his shiny baldness. " De odder day I hap- 
pened to pass a policy shop, an' I saw you gwine in. 
Dat same evenin' as I was gwine past a saloon, I saw 
you standin' at de bar wid a glass of whiskey in your 
han\ I kin also recall de fack dat I hev not seen 
you at work for de las' month." 

"I hasn't bin feelin' strictly well," pleaded the 
judge. 

" You war well 'nuff to play policy." 

" I — I — didn't put up but ten cents." 

" And what about de whiskey-drinkin' ? " 

" I was feelin' powerful weak, sah." 

" Too thin— too thin," replied the president as he 
shook his head. " Now, den, I want to spoke to you. 
In some respects you am a good man. I doan't be- 
lieve you would steal, I hev neber cotched you lyiu', 



124 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

and I reckon you am a good man at home. Now, if 
somebody told you dar was a gold ring in de bottom 
of de ribber somewhar', would you pay ten cents a 
chance to fish fur it ? " 

" No, sah." 

" Sartin, you wouldn't. Policy am a long, wide, 
deep ribber. De gold ring at de bottom am a $5 
prize which some poo' critter fishes out arter payin' 
ten or fifteen dollars fur de chance. You wouldn't 
frow money into Lake Erie an' 'spect to git it back, 
but you'll frow money into de pond of policy an' 
'spect to git out ten times as much money as you 
tossed in. Drap it — drap it, Brudder Cadaver, be- 
fore you lose de title of Judge an' get dat of Fool." 

" Yes, sah; I'll drap it to once." 

" An' you drank whiskey. De man who goes into 
a saloon am no better dan de man who keeps it. If 
I should ax you to put your foot ag'in a hot stove 
you would think me crazy. An' yet, when you burn 
your stomach, befuddle your brain an' make a brute 
of yourself, and hev to pay fur de privilege besides, 
what shall I think of you ? God made de idiot, but 
it was left to whiskey to make de fool." 

"I'll nebber tech de stuff ag'in, sah— nebber." 

" An' you hev bin loafin' aroun'. Brudder Cada- 
ver, all wickedness begins wid laziness. A loafer 
am as much despised as a drunkard. When laziness 
comes home pride goes away to visit de nayburs. 
Whiskey may break a woman's heart, but laziness will 
freeze her to death. When you go home to-night 
spit on yer hands an' ax de boys to grease yer butes. 
When you turn outer bed in the mawnin', freeze hold 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 125 

ob de ax or spade or brush, an' hunt fur a job. 
Dissolve partnership wid laziness, cut de acquaintance 
of whiskey, an' de next time you am tempted to play 
policy come ober to my cabin an' ax me to kick you 
all aroun' de doahyard. You kin now sot down." 



"HOSSE3 IS HOSSES." 

BEET HARTE. 

Beautiful ! Sir, you may say so. Thar isn't her 

match in the country, — 
Is thar, old gal ? • Chiquita, my darling, my beauty ! 
Feel of that neck, sir — thar's velvet ! Whoa ! 

Steady — ah, will you ? you vixen ! 
Whoa! I say. Jack, trot her out; let the gentleman 

look at her paces. 

Morgan ! — She ain't nothin' else, and I've got the 

papers to prove it. 
Sired by Chippewa Chief, and twelve hundred dollars 

won't buy her; 
Briggs of Tuolumne owned her. Did you know 

Briggs of Tuolumne ? — 
Busted hisself in White Pine, and blew out his brains 

down in 'Frisco ? 

Hedn't no savey — hed Briggs. Thar, Jack ! that'll 

do — quit that foolin' ! 
Nothin' to what she kin do vrhen she's got her work 

cut out before her. 



126 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

Hosses is hosses, you know, and likewise, too, jock- 
eys is jockeys; 

And 'taint every man as can ride as knows what a 
hoss has got in him. 

Know that old ford on the Fork, that nearly got^, 

Flanigan's leaders ? 
Nasty in daylight, you bet, and a mighty rough ford 

in low water ! 
"Well, it ain't six weeks ago that me and the Jedge 

and his nevy 
Struck for that ford in the night, in the rain, and the 

water all round us. 

Up to our flanks in the gulch, and Rattlesnakes Creek 

just a bilin', 
Not a plank left in the dam, and nary a bridge on 

the river. 
I had the gray, and the Jedge had his roan, and his 

nevey, Chiquita; 
And after us trundled the rocks just loosed from the 

top of the canon. 

Lickity, lickity, switch, we came to the ford, and 

Chiquita 
Buckled right down to her work, and afore I could 

yell to her rider, 
Took water jest at the ford, and there was the Jedge 

and me standing, 
And twelve hundred dollars of hoss-nesh afloat, an' 

a driftin', to thunder I 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 127 

Would you b'lieve it, that night, that hoss — that ar' 
filly—- Chiquita — 

Walked herself into her stall, and stood there all 
quiet and dripping ! 

Clean as a beaver or rat, with nary a buckle or har- 
ness, 

Just as she swam the Ford — that hoss, that ar' filly, 
Chiquita. 

That's what I call a hoss ! and — what did you say ? — 

O, the nevy ? 
Drowned, I reckon — leastwise he never kem back to 

deny it. 
Ye see the derned fool had no seat — you couldn't 

have made him a rider; 
And then, we know, boys will be boys, and hosses — 

well, hosses is hosses ! 



DEATH OF THE WIFE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

She had lain all day in a stupor, breathing with 
heavy-laden breath, but as the sun sunk to rest in 
the far off western sky, and the red glow on the wall 
of the room faded into dense shadows, awoke and 
called feebly to her aged partner, who was sitting 
motionless by the bed-side. He bent over his dying 
wife and took her wan, wrinkled hand in his. 

" Is it night ? " she asked in tremulous tones, look- 
ing at him with eyes that saw not. 

"Yes," he answered softly; "it is growing dark." 



128 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Where are the children ? " she queried; " are they 
all in ? " 

Poor old man ! How could he answer her ? The 
children had slept for years in the old churchyard. 

" The children are safe/' answered the old man, 
tremulously; " don't think of them, Jane. Think of 
yourself. Does the way seem dark ? " 

" My trust is in Thee. Let me never be confound- 
ed. "What does it matter if the way is dark ? " 

" I'd rather walk with God in the dark, than walk 
alone in the light." 

" I'd rather walk with Him by faith, than walk 
alone by sight." 

" John, where's little Charley ? " she asked. Her 
mind was again in the past. The grave dust of 
twenty years had lain on Charley's golden hair, but 
the mother had never forgotten him. The old man 
patted her cold hands that had labored so hard that 
they were seamed and wrinkled and calloused with 
years of toil, and the wedding ring was worn to a 
mere thread of gold — and then he pressed his lips to 
them and cried; they had encouraged and strength- 
ened him in every trial of life. Why, what a woman 
she had been ! "What a leader in Israel ! Always 
with the gift of prayer or service. They had stood 
at many a deathbed together — closed eyes of loved 
ones, and then sat down with the Bible between them 
to read the promise. Now she was about to cross 
the dark river alone. 

And it was strange and sad to the yellow-haired 
grand-daughter left them to hear her babble of walks 
in the woods, of gathering May flowers and strolling 






EECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 129 

■with John, of petty household cares that she had 
always put down with strong, resolute hand, of wed- 
ding feasts and deathbed triumphs; and when at 
midnight she heard the Bridegroom's voice, and the 
old man, bending over her, cried pitifully, and the 
grand-daughter kissed her pale brow, there was a 
solemn joy in her voice as she spoke the names of 
her children, one by one, as if she saw them with 
immortal eyes, and with one glad smile put on im- 
mortality. 

They led the old man sobbing away, and when he 
saw her again the glad morning sun was shining, the 
air was jubilant with the song of birds, and she lay 
asleep on the couch under the north window where 
he had seen her so often lie down to rest while wait- 
ing for the Sabbath bell. And she wore the same 
black silk, and the string of gold beads about her thin 
neck and the folds of white tulle. Only now the 
brooch with his miniature was wanting, and in its 
place was a white rose and a spray of cedar — she had 
loved cedar — she had loved to sing over her work: 

"Oh, may I in His courts he seen, 
Like a young cedar, fresh and green." 

But the strange transformations that were there ! 
The wrinkles were gone. The traces of age and pain 
and weariness were smoothed out; the face had 
grown strangely young, and a placid smile was on 
the pale lips. The old man was awed by this like- 
ness to the bride of his youth. He kissed the un- 
res}3onsive lips, and then said softly: 

" Tou have found heaven first, Janet, but you'll 



130 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

come for me soon. It's our first parting in more 
than seventy years, but it won't be for long ! " 

And it was not. The Winter snow has not fallen, 
and there is another grave, and to-day would have 
been their diamond wedding ! We had planned 
much for it, and I wonder — I wonder — but no ! 
Where they are there is neither marriage nor giving 
in marriage, 



OUR OWN. 

ANONYMOUS. 



If I had known in the morning 
How wearily all the day 

The words unkind 

Would trouble my mind 
I said when I went away, 
I had been more careful, darling, 
Nor given you needless pain. 

But we vex " our own " 

With look and tone 
We may never take back again. 

For though in the quiefc evening 
You may give me the kiss of peace, 
Yet it might be 
That never for me 
The pain of the heart should cease. 
How many go forth in the morning 
That never come home at night; 
And hearts have broken 
For harsh words spoken 
That sorrow can ne'er set right. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 131 

We have careful thoughts for the stranger, 
And smiles for the sometimes guest; 
But oft for " our own " 
The bitter tone, 
Though we love " our own " the best. 
Ah, lips with the curve impatient ! 
Ah, brow with that look of scorn ! 
'Twere a cruel fate, 
Were the night too late 
To undo the work of morn. 






A MODEL LOVE LETTER. 

ANONYMOUS. 

My Dear Miss Milinda: — Every time I think of you 
my heart flops up and down like a churn-dasher. 
Sensations of unutterable joy caper over it like young 
goats on a stable roof, and thrill through it like 
Spanish needles through a pair of tow linen trousers. 
As a gosling swimmeth in a mud-puddle, so I swim in 
a sea of glory. Visions of ecstatic rapture, thicker 
than the hairs of a blacking-brush, and brighter than 
the eyes of a humming-bird, visit me in my slumbers, 
and your image stands before me, and I reach out 
to grasp it, like a pointer snapping at a blue-bottle. 

When I first beheld your angelic perfections, I 
was bewildered, and my brain whirled around like 
a bumble-bee under a glass tumbler. My eyes stood 
open like the cellar doors of a country town, and I 
lifted up my ears to catch the silvery accents of your 



132 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

voice. My tongue refused to wag, and in silent 
adoration I drank in the sweet infection of love as a 
thirsty man swalloweth a tumbler of hot lemon- 
ade. 

Since the light of your face fell upon my life, I 
sometimes feel as if I could lift myself up by my boot- 
straps to the top of the church -steeple, and pull the 
bell-rope for singing-school. Day and night you 
are in my thoughts. When Aurora, blushing like a 
bride, rises from her saffron-colored couch; when 
the jay- bird pipes his tuneful lay in the apple-tree by 
the spring-house ; when the chanticleer's shrill 
clarion heralds the coming morn; when the awaken- 
ing pig arises from his bed and grunteth, and goeth 
for his refreshments; when the drowsy beetle wheels 
his droning flight at sultry noontide, and when the 
lowing herds come home at milking time, I think of 
thee; and, like a piece of gum-elastic, my heart seems 
stretched clear across my bosom. 

Your hair is like the mane of a sorrel horse, pow- 
dered with gold, and the graceful manner in which 
you catch your train on the fly fills me with unbound- 
ed awe. Your forehead is smoother than the elbow 
of an old coat. 

Your eyes are glorious to behold. In their liquid 
depths I see legions of little cupids bathing, like a 
cohort of red ants in a piece of old cheese. When 
their fire hit me upon my manly breast, it penetrated 
my whole anatomy, as a load of bird-shot through a 
rotten apple. Your nose is like a chunk of Parian 
marbel, and your mouth is puckered with sweetness. 
Nectar lingers on your lips, like honey on a bear's 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 133 

paw, and myriads of unfledged kisses are there, 
ready to fly out and light somewhere, like blue-birds 
out of their parents' nest. Your laugh rings in my 
ears like the wild harp's strain, or the bleat of a lost 
Nanny-goat. The dimples on your cheeks are like 
bowers in beds of roses, or hollows in cakes of home- 
made sugar. 

I am dying to pour out the burning eloquence of 
my love, as thrifty housewives pour out hot coffee. 
Away from you I am as melancholy as a sick rat. 
Sometimes I hear the June-bugs of despondency 
buzzing in my ears, and feel the cold lizards of des- 
pair crawling down my back. 

My love for you is stronger than the smell of oleo- 
margarine, or the kick of a young cow, and more 
unselfish than a kitten's first caterwaul. As a song- 
bird hankers for the light of day, the cautious mouse 
for the fresh bacon in the trap, as a mean pup hank- 
ers for new milk, so long I for thee. 

You are fairer than a speckled pullet, sweeter than 
a Yankee doughnut fried in sorghum molasses. If 
these few remarks will enable you to see the inside of 
my soul, and me to win your affections, I shall be as 
happy as a black-bird on a cherry-tree, or a stage 
horse in a green pasture. If you cannot reciprocate 
my thrilling passion, I will pine away like a poisoned 
bed-bug, and in coming years when the philosophical 
frog sings his cheerful evening hymns, then may 
you, happy in another's love, come and drop a tear, 
and catch a cold on the last resting-place of 
Yours affectionately, 

Oscar. 



134 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



THE ACRES AND THE HANDS. 

DUGANNE. 

" The earth is the Lord's, and the fullness thereof,' 

Says God's most holy word; 
The water hath fish, and the land hath flesh, 

And the air hath many a bird; 
And the soil is teeming o'er the earth, 

And the earth hath numberless lands; 
Yet millions of hands want acres, 

While millions of acres want hands. 



Sunlight and breeze, and gladsome flowers, 

Are o'er the earth spread wide; 
And the good Grod gave these gifts to men — 

To men who on earth abide. 
Yet thousands are toiling in poisonous gloom, 

And shackled with iron bands; 
While millions of hands want acres, 

And millions of acres want hands. 

Never a rod hath the poor man here, 

To plant with a grain of corn — 
And never a plant where his child may cull 

Fresh flowers in the dewy morn. 
The soil lies fallow, the woods grow rank; 

Yet idle the poor man stands ! 
Ah ! millions of hands want acres, 

And millions of acres want hands. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 135 

'Tis writ " Thou shalt not muzzle the ox 

That treadeth out the corn ! " 
Yet, behold ! ye shackle the poor man's limbs 

That have all earth's burdens borne. 
The land is the gift of a bounteous God, 

And to labor his^word commands; 
Yet millions of hands want acres, 

And millions of acres want hands. 



Who hath ordained that the few should hoard 

Their millions of useless gold ? 
And rob the earth of its fruits and flowers, 

"While profitless soil they hold ? 
Who hath ordained that a parchment scroll 

Shall fence round miles of lands, 
When millions of hands want acres, 

And millions of acres want hands ? 



'Tis a glaring lie on the face of the day — 

This robbery of men's rights ! 
'Tis a he that the word of the Lord disowns, 

'Tis a curse that burns and blights ! 
And 'twill burn and blight till the people rise, 

And swear, while they burst their bands, 
That the hands shall henceforth have acres, 

And the acres henceforth have hands. 



136 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

IF. 

ANONYMOUS. 

If men cared less for wealth and fame, 

And less for battlefield and glory; 
If writ in human hearts a name 

Seemed better than a song and story; 
If men, instead of nursing Pride, 

Would learn to hate and to abhor it; 
If more relied on Love to guide, 

The world would be the better for it. 

If men dealt less in stocks and lands, 

And more in bonds and deeds fraternal; 
If Love's work had more willing hands 

To link this world to the supernal; 
If men stored up Love's oil and wine, 

And on bruised human souls would pour it; 
If " yours " and " mine " would once combine, 

The world would be the better for it. 

If more would act the play of Life, 

And fewer spoil it in rehearsal; 
If Bigotry would sheath its knife 

Till good became more universal; 
If Custom, gray with ages grown, 

Had fewer blind men to adore it; 
If Talent shone for Truth alone, 

The world would be better for it. 

If men were wise in little things, 
Affecting less in all their dealings; 

If hearts had fewer rusted strings 
To isolate their kindly feelings; 



EECHEBCHE RECITATIONS. 137 

If men, when Wrong beats down the Eight, 
Would strive together and restore it; 

If Eight made Might in every fight, 
The world would be better for it. 



ESTRAY. 



M. QUAD. 

No one could say who owned that mule. Small 
boys had pelted him with liberal hand, and the police 
had made glorious but unsuccessful efforts to insnare 
his wayward steps, and turn him over to the pound- 
master. 

A gray mule, well put together for an animal of the 
kind. The rotundity of form which distinguishes the 
well-fed mule was lacking. A bite of grass here 
and there, an occasional thistle head, a nibble at a 
passing load of hay, may blunt the edge of hunger, 
but will not produce plumpness nor good nature. He 
had wandered from home, this mule — started out with 
a desire, perhaps, of visiting strange towns, meeting 
with strange adventures, and of seeing the world. 
His owner had been left one mule less, and mayhap 
he had searched long and diligently, and been 
patient and hopeful, trusting that the wheel of time 
would turn, and return the mourned estray. 

Down the street — around the corner — the gaslight 
playing for a moment on his faded coat — and the 
mule crowded close to the fence, and peered over 
with hungry eyes at the juicy green grass. 

In the parlor sat the lovers. She was beautiful — 



138 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

he was worth 500 shares of Lake Shore stock, and 
was interested in a bridge contract where there was 
a chance for a splendid grab. He loved and he 
trusted that she reciprocated. He had come pre- 
pared to announce his love, and she blushed as she 
read the fact in his eyes. I 

" My dear Isabella," he commenced, as he tender- ! 
ly pressed her soft fingers, u I think you " 

'•' Gee haw ! Gee haw ! " roared the wayward 
mule, rendered melancholy by the sight of the boun- 
tiful supper just beyond his nose. 

The fair Isabella sprang up in alarm, and it was 
several minutes before the young man with Lake 
Shore stock could quiet her. 

" It is nothing but a mule," he exclaimed, as he 
looked from the open window; and he scowled dark- 
ly at the wanderer, and made threatening ges- 
tures. 

She sat down again, and the painful silence was at 
length broken by his grasping her hand, and say- 
ing: 

" I have to-day been analyzing my feelings toward 
you, and find that " 

" O-h, hoo-haw, gee-haw — gee-haw ! " announced 
the homeless, houseless mule, as he caught scent of 
the roses and tulips from the lawn. He saw things 
as a mule sees them— he hungered as mules hun- 
ger. 

" It's that beast again ! " whispered Lake Shore 
stock, as the fair Isabella uttered a little shriek of 
alarm. 

He went to the window and ordered the gray- 



RECHEECHfi RECITATIONS. 139 

haired outcast to move on— to leave that locality 
without any unnecessary delay, and secure standing 
room on the common. 

They sat down again. He had something of inter- 
est to communicate, and she had a curiosity to know 
what it was. Minutes ticked away before he looked 
into her lustrous eyes again. He thought he saw the 
light of love shining brightly, and he stole his arm 
along the sofa and said : 

"You must have seen — you must know, that 
I " 

' ' O-h-h ! gee-gee-ah-ha ! ah-ha ! " came a voice 
from beneath the window. It was not the voice of a 
drifting sailor, going down to a dark, deep grave, 
after a gallant struggle for life. It was not the voice 
of a lost child crying out as it stumbled through the 
darkness, longing for the strong arms of a father to 
enfold it. It was the voice of a gray mule, quaver- 
ing strangely as hunger brought up recollections of 
corn cribs and timothy hay. 

A smile flitted across her face. The human soul 
is so constructed that one may smile at a victorious, 
exultant champion, or at a downcast, discouraged 
mule. 

Lake Shore approached the window again, and as 
he brandished his fist in the air, he warned the in- 
truder to dissolve in the distance, under penalty of 
being found dead with a severed jugular. 

When a rubber ball is flattened it will spring 
back to its original shape as soon as the pressure is 
removed. When a lover's declaration has been 
thrice broken in upon, his thoughts are slow in gather- 



140 KECHERCHE" RECITATIONS. 

ing. They sat there and gazed at the opposite wall 
as if waiting for a railroad train, but she finally 
glanced up coyly and lovingly and whispered: 
"You were about to say something! " 
" I was, " he whispered in return, reaching out for 
her hand. "The public have acknowledged me as 
your — your favored suitor for months past, and this 
fact has emboldened me to " 

" Hip-hup-haw-gee-haw-ah ! " came a voice on the 
night breeze — a voice which halted and gasped and 
hesitated as if the owner had risen from beside the 
grave of a loved, lost friend. It was not the voice 
of a troubadour, warbling words of anguish set in 
rhyme. It was not the voice of a lone night bird 
calling for its lost mate. It was the voice of that 
same mule calling to the lilac bushes to come a little 
nearer — to come and get a bite. 

"Is that an odious cow?" she softly inquired. 

" No; it's a blasted mule ! " he exclaimed. 

" Such language, sir ! " she said as she rose up. 

" Such a mule, madam ! " he replied, pointing to 
the window. " 111 kill the man— the mule — that has 
dared to come between us," he shouted, and out he 
rushed from the mansion. 

He pelted that age-worn mule with lawn ornaments; 
he pelted him with a picket torn from the fence; he 
pursued his retreating form, and battered it with 
stones picked from the street or found along the 
curbstone. 

Halting under a lone tree on the dreary common, 
gazing through the deep shadows of night to discover 
why pursuit was at last abandoned, the gray mule 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 141 

seemed to realize that even as a mule, it was safe to 
have an accident insurance ticket in his pocket, and 
he sighed and gasped and tremulously soliloquized: 
" Gee — haw — gee-ah — r-r-raw — gee-haw! " 
And the shadow grew deeper, the night breeze 
sighed with renewed loneliness, the stars nestled be- 
hind the clouds to sleep, and he felt that he was a mule 
beloved by no one. 



THE DEAD WIFE'S PORTRAIT. 

ANONYMOUS. 

In a lumbering attic room, 

Where, for want of light and air, 
Years had died within the gloom, 
Leaving dead dust everywhere — 
Everywhere — 
Hung the portrait of a lady 
With a face so fair. 

Time had long since dulled the paint — 

Time — which all our arts disguise; 
And the features now were faint — 
All except the wondrous eyes — 
Wondrous eyes, 
Ever looking, looking, looking, 
With a sad surprise. 

As man loveth, man had loved 

Her whose features faded there; 
As man mourneth, man had mourned — 



142 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Weeping, in his dark despair, 
Bitter tears, 
When she left him broken-hearted, 
To his death of years. 

Then, for months, the picture bent 

All its eyes upon his face — 
Following him where'er he went — 
Till another filled the place 
In its stead — 
Till the features of the living 
Did outface the dead. 

There, for years, it hung above, 

In that attic dim and ghast, 
Fading with the fading love — 
Sad reminder of the past — 
Save the eyes, 
Ever looking — ever looking 

With such sad surprise. 

Oft, the distant laughter's sound 

Entered through the cobwebbed door; 
And the cry of children found 
Dusty echoes from the floor 
To those eyes — 
Ever looking — ever looking 

With such sad surprise. 

Once, there moved upon the stair 
Olden love steps mounting low; 
But the face that met him there 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 143 

Drove him to the depths below; 
For those eyes 
Through his soul seemed looking — looking 
All their sad surprise. 

From that day the door was nailed 

Of that memory-haunted room; 
A.nd the portrait hung, and paled 
On the dead dust and the gloom- 
Save the eyes, 
Ever looking — ever looking 

With such sad surprise. 



SPOOPENDYKE OPENING OYSTERS. 

STANLEY HUNTLEY. 

"My dear," queried Mr. Spoopendyke, "did you 
pit those oysters on the cellar floor with the round 
slells down, as I told you to ? " 

" I did most of 'em," replied Mrs. Spoopendyke. 
" Some of 'em wouldn't stay that way. They turned 
rght over." 

"Must have been extraordinary intelligent oys- 
ters," murmured Mr. Spoopendyke, eyeing her with 
suspicion. " Didn't any of 'em stand up on end and 
ask for the morning paper, did they ? " 

" You know what I mean," fluttered Mrs. Spoop- 
endyke. " They tipped over sideways, and so I laid 
them on the flat shell." 

" That's right," grunted Mr. Spoopendyke. a You 



14A RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

want to give an oyster his own way, or you'll hurt 
his feelings. Suppose you bring up some of those 
gifted oysters and an oyster-knife, and we'll eai 
'em. 

Mrs. Spoopendyke hurried away and pattered 
back with the feast duly set out on a tea-waiter, 
which she placed before Mr. Spoopendyke with a 
flourish. 

"Now," said she, drawing up her sewing-diair, 
and resting her elbows on her knees and her chin 
on her hands; " when you get all you want you may 
open me some." 

Mr. Spoopendyke whirled the knife aroun:! his 
head and brought it down with a sharp crack. Then 
he clipped away at the end a moment, and jabbed at 
what he supposed was the opening. The kiife 
slipped and ploughed the bark off his thumb. 

" Won't come open, won't ye ! " he shouted, feich- 
it another lick, and jabbing away again. ' ' Haven't 
completed your census of who's out here working ct 
ye, have ye ? " and he brought it another whacl. 
" P'rhaps ye think I haven't fully made up my mini 
to inquire within, don't ye ? " and he rammed ths 
point of the knife at it, knocking the skin of! his 
knuckles. 

" That isn't the way to open an oyster," suggested 
Mrs. Spoopendyke. 

"Look here," roared Mr. Spoopendyke, turning 
fiercely on his wife. " Have you got any private un- 
derstanding with this oyster ? Has the oyster con- 
fided in you the particular way in which he wants to 
be opened ? " 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 145 

"No-o!" stammered Mrs. Spoopendyke. ''Only 
I thought- " 

" This is no time for thought ! " shouted Mr. 
Spoopendyke, banging away at the edge of the shell. 
" This is the moment for battle, and if I've happened 
to catch this oyster during office hours, he's going to 
enter into relations with the undersigned. Come 
out, will ye ? " he yelled, as the knife flew up his 
sleeve. " Maybe ye don't recognize the voice of 
Spoopendyke ! Come out, ye measly coward, be- 
fore ye make an enemy of me for life ! " and he 
belted away at the shell with the handle of the knife, 
and spattered mud like a dredging machine. 

" Let me get you a hammer to crack him with," 
recommended Mrs. Spoopendyke, hovering over her 
husband in great perturbation. 

"Don't want any hammer,'' howled Mr. Spoopen- 
dyke, slamming around with his knife. " S'pose I'm 
going to use brute force on a measly fish that I 
could swallow alive if I could only get him out of his 
house ? Open your measly premises ! " raved Mr. 
Spoopendyke, stabbing at the oyster vindictively, and 
slicing his shirt sleeve clear to the elbow. "Come 
forth and enjoy the society of Spoopendyke ! " and 
the worthy gentleman foamed at the mouth, and he 
sunk back in his chair and contemplated his stubborn 
foe with glaring eyes. 

" I'll tell you what to do ! " exclaimed Mrs. Spoop- 
endyke, radiant with a profound idea. " Crack him 
in the door ! " 

" That's the scheme ! " grinned Mr. Spoopendyke, 
with horrible contortions of visage. "Fetch me the 



146 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

door. Set that door right before me on a plate. 
This oyster is going to stay here. If you think this 
oyster is going to enjoy any change of climate until 
he strikes the tropics of Spoopendyke, you don't 
know the domestic habits of shell-fish. Loose your 
hold ! " squealed Mr. Spoopendyke, returning to the 
charge, and fetching the bivalve a prodigious whack. 
" Come into the outer world, where all is gay and 
beautiful. Come out and let me introduce you to my 
wife ; " and Mr. Spoopendyke laid the oyster on the 
arm of his chair, and slugged him remorselessly. 

" "Wait ! " squealed Mrs. Spoopendyke, " here's one 
with his mouth open ! " and she pointed cautiously 
at a gaping oyster who had evidently taken down 
the shutters to see what the row was about. 

" Don't care a measly nickle with a hole in it ! " 
protested Mr. Spoopendyke, thoroughly impatient. 
* ' Here's one that's going to open his mouth, or the 
resurrection will find him still wrestling with the os- 
tensible head of this family. Ow ! " and Mr. Spoop- 
endyke, having rammed the knife into the palm of 
his hand, slammed the oyster against the chimney- 
piece, where it was shattered, and danced around 
the room wriggling with wrath and agony. 

" Never mind the oysters, dear," cried Mrs. Spoop- 
endyke, following him around and trying to disen- 
gage his wounded hand from his armpit. 

" Who's minding 'em ? " roared Mr. Spoopendyke, 
standing on one leg and bending up double. " I tell 
ye that when I start to inflict discipline on a narrow- 
minded oyster that won't either accept an invitation 
or send regrets, he's going to mind me ! Where's 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 1A7 

the oyster ? Show me the oyster ! Arraign the 
oyster ! " 

" Upon my word, you've opened him ! " giggled 
Mrs. Spoopendyke, picking up the smashed bivalve 
between the tips of her thumb and fore-finger. 

" Won't have him ! " sniffed Mr. Spoopendyke, 
eyeing the broken shell and firing his defeated enemy 
into the grate. " If I can't go in the front door of 
an oyster, I'm not going down the scuttle ! That all 
comes of laying 'em on the flat shell," he continued, 
suddenly recollecting that his wife was to blame for 
the whole business. " Now you take the rest of 'em 
down and lay 'em as I told you to." 

"Yes, dear." 

" And another time you want any oysters you sit 
around in the cellar, and when they open their 
mouths you put sticks in. You hear ? " 

"Yes, dear." 

And Mrs. Spoopendyke took the bivalves back, re- 
solving that the next time they were in demand they 
would crawl out of their shells and walk up-stairs 
arm-in-arm, before she would have any hand in the 
mutilation of her poor dear suffering husband by 
bringing them up herself. 



SAM'S LETTER. 

ANONYMOUS. 



I wonder who the d-d-dickenth w-wote me this let- 
ter. I thuppose the b-best way to f-find out ith to 
open it and thee, {opens letter) Thome lun -lunatic 
hath w-witten me this letter. He hath w-witten it 



140 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

upthide down. I wonder if he th-thought I wath go- 
ing to w-wead it thanding on my head. Oh, yeth, 
I thee; I had it t-t-turned upthide down. " Ainewi- 
ca." Who the d-dickenth do I know in Amewica? I 
am glad he hath g-given me hith addwess anyhow. 
Oh, yeth, I thee, it ith from Tham. I alwayth know 
Tham's handwiting when I thee hith name at the 
b-bottom of it. Tham alwayths wath an aths; but 
you'd like him. " My dear bwother — " Tham al- 
waths called me bwother. I-I thuppose iths because 
hith m-mother and my mother wath the thame 
woman, and we never had any thisters. When we 
were boyths we were ladths together. They used to 
ge-get off a p wo verb when they thaw uth corn-com- 
ing down the stweet. It ith vewy good, if I could 
only think of it. I can never wecollect anything that 
I can't we-wemember. Iths — it iths the early bir- 
bird — iths the early bir-bird that knowths iths own 
father. What non-nonthenths that iths ! How co- 
could a bir-bird know iths cwn father? Iths a 
w r ithe — iths a withe child — iths a withe child that 
geths the worn. T-that's not wite. What non-non- 
thenths that iths i No pa-pawent would allow hiths 
child to ga-gather woms. Iths a wyme. Iths fish of -of 
a feather. Fish of a fea — What non-nonthenths ! 
for fish don't have feathers. Iths a bir-bird — iths b- 
birds of a feather — b-birds of a — of feather flock to- 
gether. B-birds of a feather ! Just as if a who? 
who- whole flock of b-birds had only one f-feather. 
They'd all catch cold, and only one b-bird c-could 
have that f-feather, and he'd fly sidewithse. What 
con-confounded nonthenths that iths ! Flock to- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 149 

together ! Of courthse th-they'd flock together. 
Who ever her-heard of a bird being such a thupid f- 
fool as to g-go into a c-corner and flo-nock by him- 
self? "Iwo-wote you a letter thome time ago — " 
Thath's a lie; he d-didn't wi-wite me a letter. If 
he had witten me a letter he would have posted it, 
and I would have g-got it; so, of course, he didn't 
post it, and then he didn't wite it. Thath's easy. 
Oh, yeths, I thee: "but I dwopped it into the potht- 
potht-offlce forgetting to diwect it." Tham alwayths 
waths an aths. I wonder who the d-dic-dickens got 
that letter. I wonder if the poth-pothman iths go- 
in' awound inquiring for a f- fellow without a name. 
I wonder if there iths a f -fellow without any name. 
If there iths any fel-fellow without any name, how 
the d dickenth doeths he know who he iths himthelf ? 
I — I wonder if thuch a fellow could get mawaid. 
How could he ask hiths wife to take hithsname if he 
h-had no name ? Thath's one of thothse things no 
fellow can f-find out. " I have just made a startling 
dithcovery." Thani's alwayths d-doing thomthing. 
" I have dithcovered that my mother iths — that m- 
my mother ith not my m-mother; that a — the old 
nurse iths my m-mother, aud that you are not my 
b-bwother, and a — tha-that I was changed at my 
birth." How c-can a fellow be changed at hith 
b-birth ? If he iths not himthelf, who the d-dick- 
enth iths he ? If Thani's m-mother ith not hith m- 
niother, and the nurthse iths hith mother, and Tham 
ithn't my bwother, who the d-dickenth am I ? That's 
one of thothse things that no fel-follow can find out. 
"I have p-pur chased an ethstate som-some- 



150 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

where — " Dothn't the id-idiot know wh-where h-he 
has bought it ? Oh, yeths : " on the b-bahkths of 
the M-M-Mithithippi." Wh-who the d-dickenth iths 
M-Mithithippi ? I g-gueths ith's Tham's m-mother- 
in-l-law. Tharn's got mawaid. He th-thayths he felt 
v-vewy ner-nervons. Any fel-fellow feels nervous 
when h-he knows he iths go-going to make an aths 
of himthelf. Thani's got a mother-in-law. He al- 
wayths waths a lucky fellow getting th- things he did- 
n't want, and hadn't any use for. Thpeaking of 
mother-in-lawths, I had a fwiend who had a mother- 
in-law, and he didn't like her pwetty well; and she 
f-felt the thame way towards him; and they went 
away on a st-steamer acwoths the ocean, and they 
got wecked, catht away on a waft, and they floated 
awound with their feet in the water and other 
amuthements, living on thuch things ath they could 
pick up — thardinths, ithcweam, owanges, and other 
c-canned goodths that were floating awound. "When 
that waths all gone, everybody ate everybody else. 
F-finally only himthelf and hiths m-mother-in-law 
waths left, and they pl-played a game of c-cards to 
thee who thould be eaten up — himthelf or hiths 
mother-in-law. A-a — the mother-in-law lotht. H- 
he treated her handthomly, only he strapped h-her 
flat on her back, and c-carved her gently. H-h-he 
thays that waths the f-first time that he ever weally 
enjoyed a m-mother-in-law. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 151 



THE LIME-KILN CLUB. 

M. QUAD. 

"What I was gwine to remark," said Brother 
Gardner, as the siege opened, " was to de effeck dat 
Killwilliam Smith, ginerally known as de ' Demos- 
thenes of the South,' am now waitin' in de aunty- 
room for an invitashun to deliver his orashun on 
' The Great Men of de Past.' He has come heah 
from Lynchburg, Va., fur dis speshul purpose, payin' 
his own fa'r part of de way, an' walkin' de rest of de 
way on de railroad ties, an' if dar am no dejeckshuns 
we will bring him in." 

" Did I understan' de cha'r to say if deir was no 
dejeckshuns ? " asked the Rev. Penstock, as he sud- 
denly popped up. 

"You did, sah!" 

" Dejeckshuns — ah. Didn't de cha'r mean to say 
if deir was no " 

" Brudder Penstock," interrupted the President, 
" when dis cha'r says dejeckshuns he doan' mean in- 
fleckshuns, direckshuns or deneckshuns. De las' 
time you interrupted the purceedin's of dis meetin', 
you war tole dat de nex' display of capfulness on 
your part would dissult in a fine. Painful as it am 
to me, an' as much as I feel fur your wife an' chil'en, 
I shall repose a fine on you of $400 an' costs. De 
costs, as near as I can figger, will be about $600. 
You will consider yourself impended from member- 
ship until de fine am paid." 

The Rev. sank down on his chair, his eyes rolled, 



152 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

his breathing was labored, and he suddenly fainted 
away, and dragged Napoleon Shrewsbury with him 
to the floor. During the excitement eight or ten 
persons received the contents of the water-pail. 
Melon rinds flew about in a perfect shower, and a 
cantelope, which struck Ten Thousand Collins be- 
tween the shoulders, broke open and extinguished 
three lamps, and knocked down the grub-hoe with 
which Washington crossed the Delaware. Brother 
Penstock finally revived and bound a wet towel 
around his head, and Colonel Hi Smith arose to 
make a statement. He was intimately acquainted 
with the pecuniary resources of Brother Penstock. 
His earnings the past year were exactly $483.29. 
His expenditures were exactly $483.25. The balance 
on hand was therefore only four cents. This year 
the balance would be closer still, and even in the 
best year to come there was no hope of a great in- 
crease. Giving four cents as the average yearly 
IK balance, and it would take Brother Penstock about 

250,000 years to pay his fine and secure his restora- 
tion to membership. The speaker hoped that mercy 
would prevail and the fine be withdrawn. After a 
brief consultation with Sir Isaac Walpole and Way- 
down Bebee the President arose and announced that 
he would remit the fine and costs, and that the mem- 
ber's narrow escape from being killed stone dead 
would be a great moral warning to him throughout 
the rest of his days. 

The Committee on Reception then donned their 
red neckties, and escorted the great orator into the 
hall. He was given a general introduction from the 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 153 

( 

platform, a glass of water and a lemon placed at his left 
hand, and after clearing his throat and adjusting his 
necktie, he began: 

" Whar am Cicero ? In de y'ars gone by de world 
cheered at his name. When he recommended any 
maker's liver pills dem pills war considered boss. 
When he acted as judge at a hoss race no man dared 
appeal. When he entered a street kyar everybody 
hitched along. When he rode out in his keeridge 
butcher carts turned pale and took a back street. 
De newspapers glorified him, de public applauded 
him, an' banks fairly ached to cash his checks. But 
whar am he to-day ? His sweet songs am silent, his 
dog has quit barking, and eben his name am forgot- 
ten except by de few interested in faro an' de string 
game, (cheers by Elder Toots.) 

" Whar am Plato ? Ask 'em at de toll-gate an' dey 
can't tell you. Ask 'em at de depots, an' a shake of 
de head will tell de sad story. Gone ! Gone ! 
When he crossed de Rubicon de world thundered 
with applause, (applause from Samuel Shin) When he 
crossed de Alps nations trembled, (cheers from the 
bach end of the hall) When he wrote ' Paradise Lost' 
de world wept, (suppressed applause from Casseway 
Bottomlands) But he am passed away. De blight 
an' de mildew struck him, an' he faded, an' only 
now and den, as you see a game of dominoes, do you 
h'ar his memory referred to. (prolonged cheers.) 

"But I did not come yere to take up de time ob 
dis meetin'. (applause) I simply desired to present 
you wid a few gems from my oratorical album, an' to 
say to you dat yereafter I kin be found at 2,657 



154 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Croglian street, dis city, whar I shall be ready at all 
times to cuali corns, bunyons, cracked heels an' so' 
toes, an' deliber my full lectur' at de low price of 
twenty-five cents a head — chil'en free." (cheers and 
applause and a fall of eleven joints of stove-pipe.) 

When quiet had been restored the Secretary read 
a communication from Happy John Franks of Ver- 
million, Marshall county, Kas., stating that a one- 
eyed, straw-pajDer colored man, giving his name as 
Pickles Smith, had been in that vicinity for the last 
two weeks collecting money for the erection of a 
colored church in Michigan. He had credentials, 
but hesitated and exhibited guilt when asked how 
many of the bald-headed members of the club wore 
buckskin plasters on top of their heads in fly time. 

The Secretary was instructed to reply that the real 
Pickles Smith had not been outside of Detroit for a 
year, and to ask the people of Kansas to receive the 
base impostor in the way he deserves. 



NOW. 

ANONYMOUS. 

"When I am lying pale and dead. 
Come not, dear friends, around my bed, 
And pour your loss in deafened ears, 
And wash my heedless face with tears. 
"What thrill of hope or tenderness 
Will beat beneath my burial dress ? 
What look of gratitude arise, 
And lift the lid of sightless eyes ? 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 155 

What loving voice escape those lips, 
From which no speech or language slips ? 
Alas ! I cannot rouse and say : 
;c If ye lament me I will stay." 
Speak while I hear, and while I long 
To feel your love is true and strong, 
While peace can soothe my troubled brow, 
Wait not to miss me; hold me now! 

Set not your kisses on my cheek, 
Nor on my mouth, too cold to speak; 
In life I longed to feel their breath 
But what are kisses worth to Death ? 
Like blossoms dropped on ice and snow, 
Like songs when howling tempests blow, 
A wasted gift, a vain caress, 
That might have been a power to bless, 
That might a life with joy endow; 
Oh ! if you kiss me, kiss me now. 

Remember not when I am gone, 
The deeds I did or would have done; 
How much I loved, how vainly strove 
To find an answer in your love; 
Say not with tears, and cries and prayers, 
' Would that we showed her tender cares, 
Had patience with the faults we knew, 
Clung to the heart so warm and true, 
That now we weep with hopeless pain, 
And know will never come again." 
Ah ! breathe not then the useless vow, 
But if you love me, love me now. 



156 EECHEKCHE RECITATIONS. 

Nor standing round my wintry grave, 
Too late to serve me or to save, 
Fling on it all yon have to give; 
" At last her follies we forgive ! " 
No ! if within your hearts there be 
A kind but slumbering thought of me, 
A memory of the vanished past, 
A hope of peace and love at last, 
A speechless prayer, a silent sense, 
That sometimes speaks in my defence; 
That says: " Our life is not too long, 
And we, perhaps, were sometimes wrong; ' 
Ah ! listen to that pleading voice, 
And bid a living heart rejoice. 
If late remorse or grief allow 
Forgiveness then, forgive me now. 



THE IDIOT BOY. 

ANONYMOUS. 

It had pleased God to form poor Ned 

A thing of idiot mind. 
Yet, to the poor unreas'ning boy 

He had not been unkind. 
Old Sarah loved her helpless child, 

Whom helplessness made dear; 
And life was all in all to him 

Who knew no hope — no fear. 

She knew his wants — she understood 

Each half-artic'late call; 
For he was everything to her, 

And she to him was all. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 157 

And so, for many a year they lived, 

Nor knew a want beside. 
But age, at length, on Sarah came, 

And she fell sick — and died. 



He tried, in vain, to waken her — 

He called her o'er and o'er. 
They told him she was dead — the words 

To him no import bore. 
They closed her eyes and shrouded her, 

Whilst he stood wondering by; 
And when they bore her to the grave, 

He followed — silently. 

They laid her in the narrow house, 

And sang the funeral stave; 
And, when the mournful train dispersed, 

He lingered at the grave. 
The rabble boys that used to jeer 

Whene'er they saw poor Ned, 
Now stood and watched him at the grave- 

And not a word they said. 

They came — and went — and came again — 

Till night at length drew on. 
Yet, still he lingered at the place 

Till every one had gone. 
And when he found himself alone, 

He quick removed the clay, 
And took the coffin in his arms, 

And bore it quick away. 



158 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Straight went he to his mother's cot, 

And laid it on the floor; 
And, with the eagerness of joy, 

He barred the cottage door. 
And then he placed his mother's corpse 

Upright within her chair, 
And then he heaped the hearth, and blew 

The kindling fire with care. 



She now was in her wonted chair — 

It was her wonted place — 
And bright the fire blazed and flashed, 

Reflected from her face. 
Then, kneeling down, he'd feel her hands- 

Anon her face behold — 
' TvTiy, mother do you look so pale; 

And why are yon so cold ? " 

And, when the neighbors, on next day, 

Had forced the cottage door, 
Old Sarah's corpse was in the chair, 

And Ned's was on the floor. 
It had pleased God from this poor boy 

His only friend to call. 
Yet God was not unkind to him — 

For Death restored him all. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 159 



WHAT THE FAT MAN THOUGHT OF THE 
INQUISITIVE BOY. 

ARKANSAW TRAVELLER. 

Mrs. Mulldttle started on a visit to friends living 
in the suburbs of the city, the other day, and might 
have spent a pleasant afternoon but for an idle re- 
mark of the youngster which threw the expedition 
into an immediate change of programme. They 
boarded a street car, and were travelling along peace- 
ably, not to say slowly, when the boy who, in strict 
keeping of a promise not to ask foolish questions, 
had conquered every desire to harvest information, 
said: 

" Ma, is a street car as hard to pull as a wagon ? " 

" No, I think not." 

"Why ain't it?" 

"Because the street car runs on iron." 

" And a wagon runs on dirt, don't it ? " 

" Yes." 

" Is a mule street car harder to pull than a horse 
street car ? " 

"I don't know." 

" Do mules have pistols ? " 

"No." 

" Horses have, haven't they ? " 

"I don't know." 

* ' Well, what's a horse pistol, then ? " 

" If you don't hush I'll put you off the car." 

" Then I'd get lost Would you care ? " 

" Of course I'd care." 



160 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Then why do you want to put me off? " 

A fat man who, with a cod nose and puffy face, sat 
opposite the boy, looked up from a newspaper, and 
bestowed an annoyed glance on the merciless ques- 
tioner. 

" You don't know me; does he, ma ? " 

"Hush, Willie." 

" Mister, can't you read when the car jolts ? " 

The man grunted and resumed his reading. 

" If you wanted to read and the car jolted so you 
couldn't read, you get off, wouldn't you ? " 

The man grunted again, and Mrs. Mulkittle brushed 
her son's foot from the seat and declared that she 
would tell his father. 

" Anybody can read when the car jolts if they ain't 
on the car, can't they ? " 

"Never mind, sir. I'll tell your father." 

" Ma, that man's face is red like brother's was, 
ain't it ? " 

" Hush sh-sh." 

" Mister, does your nose hurt ? " 

The man glared at the boy and roughly asked: 
" What's the matter with you ? " 

" Hush, Willie, or I'll slap you," exclaimed Mrs. 
Mulkittle in an agony of humiliation. 

" Ain't nothing the matter with me. What's the 
matter with you ? Did the cat scratch your face ? " 

" The cat ought to have your tongue," replied the 
man. 

" Then I couldn't talk, could I ? " 

" It is to be hoped that you could not." 

" Have you been looking at the sun ? " 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 161 

The man grunted, and Mrs. Mulkifctle jerked the 
boy, and made a feint at boxing his ears. 

" Well, what makes his eyes so red, then ? Do 
your eyes hurt, mister ? " 

"Madam," said the man, arising and violently 
pulling the strap, tl I dislike to be rude, for I ap- 
preciate your position, but if that boy was mine, 
hanged if I wouldn't annihilate him." 

" Ma, what's annihilate ? " asked the boy when the 
man had gone. 

" If you ask me another question, you naughty 
boy, I'll whip you till you can't sit still. " 

" I can walk, can't I ? " Mrs. Mulkittle turned 
away, pretending not to hear him. " If I couldn't 
sit still, I could twist around." 



THE IRREPRESSIBLE. 

ANONYMOUS. 

A cross-eyed man in a long linen ulster and a tall 
hat rang the bell, and when the woman of the house 
opened the door, she was satisfied he had an eye to 
the spoons (the straight eye), so she snapped: 

" Well, what do you want ? " 

"Madam, be calm," said the cross-eyed man, 
in a smooth voice. 

"What for?" she queried, suspiciously. 

"Madam," said the cross-eyed man, "have you a 
child ? " 

" Yes, I have, " replied the woman; " what of it ? " 



162 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" A little girl ? " queried the cross-eyed man. \ 

" No, a boy, " returned the woman. 

11 Of course — a boy, " repeated the cross-eyed man; 
" a young boy — not very old ? " 

"About that age," said the woman; "what about 
' him ? " 

" Madam, do not get excited," pursued the cross- 
eyed man; " be brave and calm." 

"Mercy on me," exclaimed the woman, in surprise; 
"what's the matter ? " 

" Gently, gently," said the cross-eyed man, in a 
soothing manner; " restrain yourself. Did not that 
little boy go out to play this morning?" 

"Yes, yes," said the woman, excitedly; "what — 
why— is there anything the matter ? " 

" Is there not a railroad track crosses the next 
street ? " queried the cross-eyed man, in a solemn 
voice. 

"Yes, oh yes," ejaculated the woman, in great fear; 
" oh, tell me what has happened ! what " 

"Be calm," interrupted the cross-eyed man, sooth- 
ingly; "be brave — keep cool — for your child's sake." 

" Oh, what is it, what is it? " wailed the woman, 
wildly; " I knew it — I feared it. Tell me the worst, 
quick ! Is my child — where is my darling boy ? " 

" Madam," replied the cross-eyed man, gently, " I 
but this moment saw a little boy playing upon the 
railroad track; as I looked upon him he seemed to 
be " 

"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" screamed the woman, 
wringing her hands; "tell me the worst. Is he " 

" He seemed to be daubing himself with oil," con- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 163 

tinned the cross-eyed man, quickly drawing a bottle 
from his pocket, " and I've got here the best thing 
in the world — Lightning Grease Eradicator — only 

twenty-five cents a bottle, warranted " 

There was a broom standing behind the door, and 
with one blow she knocked his tall hat over his eyes, 
and with another waved him over the steps and 
through the gate. And as the cross-eyed man 
moved swiftly up the street, she shook the broom at 
him, looking for all the world like an ancient god of 
mythology with a passion-distorted face and highly 
excited red arms. 



WHAT INTEMPERANCE DOES. 

ROBERT G. IXGEESOLL. 

I am aware there is a prejudice against any man 
engaged in the manufacture of alcohol. I believe 
from the time it issues from the coiled and poison- 
ous worm in the distillery until it empties into the 
hell of death, that it is demoralizing to everybody 
that touches it, from the source to where it ends. I 
do not believe that anybody can contemplate the 
subject without being prejudiced against the crime. 
All they have to do is to think of the wrecks on either 
side of the stream of death, of the suicides, of the 
insanity, of the poverty, of the destruction, of the 
little children tugging at the breast, of weeping and 
despairing wives asking for bread, of the men 
struggling <vith imaginary serpents produced by this 
devilish thing; and when you think of the jails, of 
the alms-houses, of the asylums, of the prisons, and 



164 KECHEKCHE KECITATIONS. 

of the scaffolds, on either bank, I do not wonder that 
every thoughtful man is prejudiced against this vile 
stuff called alcohol. 

Intemperance cuts down youth in its vigor, man- 
hood in its strength, and age in its weakness. It 
breaks the father's heart, bereaves the doting mother, 
extinguishes natural affection, erases conjugal love, 
blot's out filial attachment, blights parental hope, 
and brings down mourning age in sorrow to the 
grave. It produces weakness, not strength; sickness, 
not health; death, not life. It makes wives widows, 
children orphans, fathers fiends, and all of them pau- 
pers and beggars. It feeds rheumatism, nurses gout, 
welcomes epidemics, invites cholera, imports pesti- 
lence, and embraces consumption. It covers the 
land with idleness, poverty, disease and crime. It 
fills your jails, supplies your almshouses, and de- 
mands your asylums. It engenders controversies, 
fosters quarrels, and cherishes riots. It crowds your 
penitentiaries, and furnishes the victims for your 
scaffolds. It is the life-blood of the gambler, the ali- 
ment of the counterfeiter, the prop of the highway- 
man, and the support of the midnight incendiary. 
It countenances the liar, respects the thief, and 
esteems the blasphemer. It violates obligation, 
reverences fraud, and honors infamy. It defames 
benevolence, hates love, scorns virtue, and slanders 
innocence. It incites the father to butcher his help- 
less offspring, helps the husband to massacre his wife, 
and aids the child to grind the parricidal axe. It- 
burns up man and consumes woman, detests life, 
curses God, and despises heaven. It suborns wit- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 165 

nesses, nurses perjury, denies the jury-box, and 
stains the judicial ermine. It bribes voters, dis- 
qualifies votes, corrupts elections, pollutes our insti- 
tutions, and endangers our Government. It de- 
grades the citizen, debases the legislator, dishonors 
the statesman, and disarms the patriot. It brings 
shame, not honor; terror, not safety; despair, not 
hope; misery, not happiness. And with the malevo- 
lence of a fiend, it calmly surveys its frightful 
desolations; and, insatiated with havoc, it poisons 
felicity, kills peace, ruins morals, blights confidence, 
slays reputation, and wipes out national honor, then 
curses the world and laughs at its ruin. 

It does all that and more. It murders the soul. It 
is the sum of all villainies; the father of crimes; the 
mother of all abominations; the curse of curses; the 
devil's best friend, and God's worst enemy. 



TWO LOVERS. 

GEORGE ELIOT. 

Two lovers by a moss-grown spring; 

They leaned soft cheeks together there, 

Mingled the dark and sunny hair, 

And heard the wooing thrushes sing. 

O budding time ! 

O love's best prime ! 

Two wedded from the portal stept; 
The bells made happy carollings, 
The air was soft as fanning wings, 



166 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

White petals on the pathway slept. 
O pure-eyed bride ! 
O tender pride ! 

Two faces o'er a cradle bent; 

Two hands above the head were locked: 
Those pressed each other while they rocked; 

Those watched a life that love had sent. 
O solemn hour ! 

Two parents by the evening fire; 
The red lights fell about their knees 
On heads that rose by slow degrees 
Like buds upon the lily-spire. 
O patient life ! 
O tender strife ! 

The two still sat together there, 

The red light shone about their knees, 
But all the heads by slow degrees 
Had gone and left that lonely pair. 
O voyage fast ! 
banished past ! 

The red lights shone about the floor, 

And made the space between them wide; 
They drew their chairs up side by side, 
Their pale cheeks joined, and said, " Once more I " 
O memories ! 
past that is ! 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 167 



NOT TO BE WON THAT WAY. 

MRS. BBOWNING. 

Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing 

Ever made by the Hand above — 
A woman's heart and a woman's life 

And a woman's wonderful love ? 

Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing 
As a child might have asked for a toy — 

Demanding what others have died to win 
With the reckless dash of a boy ? 

You have written my lesson of duty out, 

Manlike you have questioned me; 
Now stand at the bar of my woman's soul 

Until I have questioned thee. 

You require your dinner should always be hot, 
Your socks and your shirts should be whole; 

I require your heart to be true as God's stars, 
And pure as heaven your soul. 

You require a cook for your mutton and beef, 

I require a far better thing; 
A seamstress you're wanting for stockings and shirts — 

I want a man and a king. 

A king for the beautiful realm called home, 

And a man that the Maker, God, 
Shall look upon as he did the first, 

And say, " It is very good." 



168 "' • RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

I am fair and young, but the rose will fade 
From my soft young cheek one day; 

"Will you love me then, 'mid the falling leaves, 
As you did 'mid the bloom of May ? 

Is your heart an ocean so strong and deep 
I may launch my all on its tide ? 

A loving woman finds heaven or hell 
On the day she is made a bride. 

I require all things that are good and true, 
All things that a man should be; 

If you give this all, I would stake my life 
To be all you demand of me. 

If you cannot do this — a laundress and cook 

You can hire with little to pay; 
But a woman's heart and a woman's life 

Are not to be won that way ! 



THE BALD-HEADED MAN. 

LITTLE ROCK GAZETTE. 

The other day a lady, accompanied by her son, a 
very small boy, boarded a train at Little Kock. The 
woman had a careworn expression hanging over her 
face like a tattered veil, and many of the rapid 
questions asked by the boy were answered by un- 
conscious sighs. 

" Ma," said the boy, " that man's like a baby, ain't 
he ? " pointing to a bald-headed man sitting in front 
of them. 



EECHEECHfi RECITATIONS. 169 

"Husk." 

« Why must I hush ? " 

After a few moments silence: "Ma, what is the 
matter with that man's head ? " 

" Hush, I tell you. He's bald.' 1 

« What's bald ? " 

" His head hasn't got any hair on it." 

"Did it come off? " 

"I guess so." 

" Will mine come off? " 

" Some time, maybe. " 

"Then I'll be bald, won't I ? " 

" Yes." 

" Will you care ? " 

"Don't ask so many questions." 

After another silence the boy exclaimed: "Ma, 
look at that fly on the man's head." 

" If you don't hush, I'll whip you when we get 
home." 

"Look! there's another fly. Look at 'em fight; 
look at 'em ! " 

" Madam," said the man, putting aside a news- 
paper, and looking round, " what's the matter with 
that young hyena ? " 

The woman blushed, stammered out something, 
and attempted to smooth back the boy's hair." 

" One fly, two flies, three flies," said the boy, in- 
nocently, following with his eyes a basket of oranges 
carried by a newsboy. 

' ' Here, you young hedgehog," said the bald-head- 
ed man, " if you don't hush I'll have the conductor 
put you off the train." 



170 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

The poor woman, not knowing what else to do, 
boxed the boy's ears, and then gave him an orange 
to keep him from crying. 

" Ma, have I got red marks on my head ? " 

" I'll slap you again, if you don't hush." 

" Mister," said the boy after a short silence, " does 
it hurt to be bald-headed ? " ' 

"Youngster," said the man, "if you'll keep quiet 
I'll give you a quarter." 

The boy promised, and the money was paid over. 

The man took up his paper, and resumed his read- 
ing. 

"This is my bald-headed money," said the boy. 
" When I get bald-headed, I'm goin' to give boys 
money. Mister, have all bald-headed men got 
money ? " 

The annoyed man threw down his paper, arose, 
and exclaimed: " Madam, hereafter when you travel 
leave that young gorilla at home. Hitherto I always 
thought that the old prophet was very cruel for call- 
ing the she-bears to kill children for making sport of 
his head, but now I am forced to believe that he did 
a Christian act. If your boy had been in the crowd 
he would have died first. If I can't find another 
seat on this train, I'll ride on the cow-catcher rather 
than remain here." 

"The bald-headed man is gone," said the boy; and 
the woman leaned back and blew a tired sigh from 
her lips. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 171 



SMALL BEGINNINGS. 

CHARLES MACKAY. 

A traveller through a dusty road strewed acorns on 
the lea; 

And one took root and sprouted up, and grew into a 
tree. 

Love sought its shade, at evening time, to breathe 
his early vows; 

And age was pleased, in heats of noon, to bask be- 
neath its boughs; 

The dormouse loved its dangling twigs, the birds 
sweet music bore; 

It stood a glory in its place, a blessing evermore. 

A little spring had lost its way amid the grass and 

fern, 
A passing stranger scooped a well, where weary men 

might turn; 
He walled it in, and hung with care a ladle at the 

brink; 
He thought not of the deed he did, but judged that 

toil might drink. 
He passed again, and lo ! the well, by summers 

never dried, 
Had cooled ten thousand parched tongues, and saved 

a life beside. 

A dreamer dropped a random thought; 'twas old, 

and yet 'twas new; 
A simple fancy of the brain, but strong in being 

true. 



172 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

It shone upon a genial mind, and lo ! its light be- 
came 

A lamp of life,, a beacon ray, a monitory flame. 

The thought was small; its issue great; a watch-fire 
on the hill, 

It sheds its radiance far adown, and cheers the valley 
still. 

A nameless man, amid a crowd that thronged the 

daily mart, 
Let fall a word of hope and love, unstudied, from 

the heart; 
A whisper on the tumult thrown, a transitory breath, 
It raised a brother from the dust; it saved a soul 

from death. 
O germ ! O fount ! O word of love ! thought at 

random cast; 
Ye were but little at the first, but mighty at the 

last. 



RULES FOR LADIES TRAVELLING ALONE. 

R. J. BURDETTE. 

Be sure you know where you want to go before 
you get on the train. 

When you purchase your ticket you will have to 
pay for it; no use to tell the ticket agent to ' ' charge 
it and send the bill to your husband." And if he 
says the price of the ticket is $2.96 don't tell him you 
can get one just one like it of the conductor at the 



RECHEECHfi RECITATIONS. 173 

other store for $2.50; lie won't believe you, and he 
may laugh at you. 

Never travel without money. It requires broad 
views, liberal education, keen discernment and pro- 
found judgment to travel without money. No one 
can do this successfully but tramps and editors. 

Beware of the commercial traveller. 

Don't give a stranger your ticket and ask him to 
go out and check your trunk. He will usually be 
only too glad to do it. And what is more, he will do 
it, and your trunk will be so effectually checked that 
it will never catch up with you again. And then 
when the conductor asks for your ticket, and you 
relate to him this pleasing little allegory about the 
stranger and the baggage, he will look incredulous, 
and smile down upon you from half-closed eyes, and 
say that it is a beautiful romance, but he has heard 
it before. Arid then you will put up your jewelry or 
disembark at the next station. 

If you are going three hundred miles don't try to 
get off the train every fifteen minutes, under the im- 
pression that you are there. If you get there in 
twelve hours you will be doing excellently. 

Call the brakeman " conductor;" he has grown 
proud since he got his new uniform, and it will flat- 
ter him. 

Put your shawl-strap, bundle and two paper 
parcels in the hat-rack, hang your bird cage to the 
corner of it, so that when it falls off it will drop into 
the lap of the old gentleman sitting beyond you; 
stand your four house plants on the window sill, set 
your lunch basket on the seat beside you, fold your 



174 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

shawls on the top of it, carry your pocket-book in 
one hand and hold your silver mug in the other, put 
your two valises under the seat, and hold your band- 
box and the rest of your things in your lap. Then 
you will have all your baggage handy, and won't be 
worried or flustered about it when you have only 
twenty-nine seconds in which to change cars. 

Address the conductor every ten minutes. It 
pleases hinT to have you notice him. If you can't 
think of any new question to ask him, ask the same 
old one every time. Always call him " Say " or 
" Mister." 

Pick up all the information you can while travel- 
ling. Open the window and look forward to see how 
fast the engine is going. Then when you get home 
you can tell the children about the big cinder you 
picked up with your eye, and how nice and warm it 
was, and what it tasted like. 

Don't hang your parasol on the cord that passes 
down the middle of the car. It isn't a clothes-line. 
It looks like one, but it isn't. 

Keep an eye on the passenger who calls the day 
after Monday " Chewsday." He can't be trusted a 
car's length. 

Don't attempt to change a $20 dollar bill for any 
■ one if you have only $9.25 with you; it can't be done. 

If you want a nap, always lie with your head pro- 
jecting over the end of the seat, into the aisle. Then 
everybody who goes up and down the aisle will mash 
your hat, straighten out your frizzes, and knock off 
your back hair. This will keep you from sleeping so 
soundly that you will be carried by your station. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 175 



THE POWER OF HABIT. 

ANONYMOUS. 

I remember once riding from Buffalo to the Niaga- 
ra Falls. I said to a gentleman : " What river is that, 
sir ? " 

" That," said he, " is Niagara Eiver." 

" Well, it is a beautiful stream," said I; " bright 
and fair and glassy. How far off are the rapids ? " 

" Only a mile or two," was the reply. 

"Is it possible that only a mile from us, we shall 
find the water in the turbulence which it must show 
near the Falls ? " 

" You will find it so, sir." And so I found it; and 
the first sight of Niagara I shall never forget. 

Now, launch your bark on that Niagara River; it 
is bright, smooth, beautiful and glassy. There is a 
" ripple at the bow; the silver wake you leave behind 
adds to your enjoyment. Down the stream you 
glide, oars, sails and helm in proper trim, and you 
set out on your pleasure excursion. 

Suddenly some one cries out from the bank: 
"Young men, ahoy ! " 

" What is it ? " 

" The rapids are below you ! " 

"Ha! ha ! we have heard of the rapids; but we 
are not such fools as to get there. If we go too fast, 
then we shall up with the helm and steer to the 
shore; we will set the mast in the socket, hoist the 
sail, and speed to the land. Then on, boys; don't 
be alarmed, there is no danger." 



176 i^'" RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

" Young men, ahoy there ! " 

"What is it?" 

" TJie rapids are below you ! " 

" Ha ! ha ! we will laugh and quaff; all things de- 
light lis What care we for the future? No man 
ever saw it. Sufficient for the day is the evil there- 
of. We will enjoy life while we may, will catch 
pleasure as it flies. This is enjoyment; time enough 
to steer out of danger when we are sailing swiftly 
with the current." 

" Young men, ahoy ! " 
| " What is it ? " 

" Beware ! beware ! The rapids are below tou ! " 

" Now you see the water foaming all around. See 
how fast you pass that point ! Up with the helm ! 
Now turn ! Pull hard ! Quick ! quick ! quick ! 
pull for your lives ! pull till the blood starts from 
your nostrils, and the veins stand like whip-cords 
upon your brow ! Set the mast in the socket ! hoist 
the sail ! Ah ! ah ! it is too late ! Shrieking, howl- 
ing, blaspheming; over they go.'"' 

Thousands go over the rapids of intemperance 
every year, through the power of habit, crying all the 
while, " When 1 find out that it is injuring me, I will 



SIM'S LITTLE GIRL. 

MARY HAETWELL. 



Come out here, George Burks. Put that glass 
down — can't wait a minute. Business particular — 
concerns the Company 

I don't often meddle in other folks' business, do I ? 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 177 

When a tough old fellow like me sets out to warn a 
body, you may know its because he sees sore need of 
it. 

Just takin' drinks for good fellowship ? Yes, I know 
N all 'bout that. Been there myself. Sit down on the 
edge of the platform here. 

Of all the men in the world, I take it, engineers 
ought to be the last to touch the bottle. We have 
life and property trusted to our hands. Ours is a 
grand business; I don't think folks look at it as they 
ought to. Kemember when I was a young fellow like 
you, just set up with an enjine, I used to feel like a 
strong angel, or somethin', rushin' over the country, 
makin' that iron beast do just as I wanted him to. 
The power sort of made me think fast. 

I was doin' well when I married, and I did well 
long afterwards. We had a nice home — the little 
woman and me; our hearts was set on each other, 
and she was a little proud of her engineer — she used 
to say so, anyhow. She was sort of mild and tender 
with her tongue. Not one of your loud ones. And 
pretty, too. 

And after awhile we had the little girl. We talked 
a good deal about what we should call her — my wife 
and I. We went clean through the Bible, and set 
down all the fine story names we heard of. But 
nothin' seemed to suit. I used to puzzle the whole 
length of my route to find a name for that little girl. 
My wife wanted to call her Endora Isabel. But that 
sounded like folderol. Then we had up Kebeccar, 
and Maud, and Amanda Ann, and what not. Final- 
ly, whenever I looked at her, I seemed to see 



178 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

"Katie." She looked Katie. I took to callin' her 
Katie, and she learned it, so Katie she was. 

I tell you, George, that was a child to be noticed. 
She was rounder and prettier made'n a wax figger; 
her eyes was bigger and blacker'n any grown 
woman's you ever saw, set like stars under her fore- 
head; and her hair was that light kind, that all runs 
to curls and glitter. 

Soon's she could toddle, she used to come dancin' 
to meet me. I've soiled a-many of her white pina- 
fores, buryin' my face in them before I was washed, 
and sort of prayin' soft like under the roof of my 
heart, "God bless my baby! — God bless my little 
lamb ! " 

As she grew older, I used to talk to her about en- 
gin' — even took her into my cab, and showed the 
'tachments of the engin', and learned her signals and 
such things. 

My home was close by the track. Often and often 
the little girl stood in our green yard, waving her 
mite of hand as we rushed by. 

Well, one day I started on my home trip, full of 
that good fellowship you was imbibin' awhile ago. 
Made the engine whizz ! We was awful jolly — the 
fireman and me. Never was drunk when I got on 
my engine before, or the Company would have 
shipped me. Warn't no such time made on that 
road before nor since. I had just sense enough to 
know what I was about, but not enough to handle 
an emergency. We fairly roared down on the trestle 
that stood at the entrance of our town. 

I had a tipsy eye out, and, George, as we was fly- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 179 

in' through the suburbs, I see my little girl on the 
track ahead, wavin' a red flag and standin' stock 
still ! 

The air seemed full of Katies. I could have 
stopped the engine if I'd only had sense enough to 
know what to take hold of to reverse her ! But I 
was too drunk ! And that grand little angel stood 
up to it, trying to warn us in time, and we just 
swept right along into a pile of ties some wretch had 
placed on the track !— right over my baby ! — Oh, my 
baby ! 

There ! And do you want me to tell you how 
that mangled little mass killed her mother ? And do 
you want me to tell you I walked alive the murderer 
of my own child, who stood up to save me ? And do 
you want me to tell you the good fellowship you 
were drinkin' a while ago brought all this on me ? 



A SCREAM OF THE EAGLE. 

COL. P. DONAN. 

[From a Fourth of July Oration delivered at Fargo.] 

Do other lands boast of their greafe rivers ? We 
could take up all their Niles and Thameses, their yel- 
low Tibers, castled Rhines and beautiful blue Dan- 
ubes, by their little ends, and empty them into our 
majestic Mississippis and Missouris, Amazons, Sas- 
katchewan and De la Platas, without making rise 
enough to lift an Indian flatboat off a sandbar. Do 
they brag of their seas and lakes ? We could spill all 
their puny Caspian s and Azoys, their Dead Seas, 



180 RECHERCHE EECITATIONS. 

Nyanzas and Maggiores into our mighty Superiors, 
Michigans, Eries and Ontarios, and scarce produce a 
ripple on their pebbly brims to wash away the 
eighteen-inch footprints on the sands of time left by 
fairy-like slipper of a St. Louis or Chicago girl. Do 
they prate of their romantic scenery ? We have a 
thousand jewel-like lakes that would make all their 
vaunted Comos, Genevas and Killarneys hide their 
faces in a veil of friendly fog. The thunder of our 
Niagara drowns out the feeble murmur of all their 
cataracts, while the awful crags and canons of our 
Yosemite and Yellowstone, the prismatic glitter and 
dash of our St. Anthonys and Minnehahas, and the 
lonely grandeur of our horizon-fenced prairies, 
boundless oceans of billowy verdure, dwarf to insip- 
idity the most famous scenes of Switzerland and 
Italy, eclipse the wonders and glories of the Arabian 
Nights, and defy all the skill of poet's pen and artist's 
pencil to depict the veriest atom of their sublimity 
and their loveliness. Do they prattle about their 
JEtnas and Vesuviuses? With our noses turning 
somersets of ineffable contempt clear over our heads, 
we thunder forth our Cotopaxis, Popocatapelts, 
Chimborazos, and a score of other jaw-breakers 
whose very names alone are too huge for common 
tongues. I am aware that some of the specimens of 
national prodigiousness that I have mentioned do not 
just exactly belong to us yet; but they belong to our 
next-door neighbors who are not as strong as we 
are, and to our gloriously expansive Yankee spirit, 
where or what is the difference? Do other lands 
and nations talk of their mines of jewels and gold ? 



RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 181 

We answer with the exhaustless bonanzas of Califor- 
nia, Colorado, Dakota and New Mexico, where 
mountains of gold and siver ore challenge the skies, 
and where the ceaseless thunder of the world's 
greatest bullion mills resounds in the yet warm lair 
of the Rocky Mountain grizzly bear. Do they rave 
of the harvest fields of Germany and Britain, and the 
vine-clad hills of Trance? We show them half a 
hemisphere, with soils and climates as varied as the 
tastes of men, and with capacities for production as 
boundless as the needs of men; yielding everything 
cereal, vegetable, animal, textile and mineral, agricul- 
tural, horticultural, geological, zoological, pomolog- 
ical, piscatorial and ornithological, ovine, bovine, 
capricornine, equine and asinine — the last including 
most of our alleged statesmen — that all the wants of 
all the races, tribes, kindreds and tongues of earth 
can ever require. The sun in heaveri, in all his 
grand rounds since " the evening and the morning 
were the first day," never looked down on a more 
magnificent domain— a fresh and glorious half world, 
grand in all its proportions and endlessly diversified, 
rich and gorgeous in all its adornments, resting like 
a vast emerald breastpin upon the bosom of four great 
oceans. It is the broadest land ever given to any 
people, the grandest and most beautiful, the most 
varied in its productions, and the most unlimited in 
its capabilities and its future. 

And Americans were and are the people for it — 
cosmopolitan, the race of races, mingling in their 
veins the blood of all other nations, and combining 
in themselves the good qualities of all — the sturdy 



182 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

manhood, courage and patriotism of the English, the 
pertinacity, thrift and honesty of the Scotch, the 
patient, plodding industry of the German, the pride 
and gallantry of the Spanish, the art and sentiment 
of the Italian, and the fire and dash of the Irish and 
French, all permeated by the energy and shrewdness 
a,nd colossal modesty that are peculiarly Yankee, the 
stern piety of the Puritan crossed with the reckless 
deviltry of the cow-boy, and the endurance of the 
Kickapoo. With such a country and such a race, 
what is not possible ? The mighty march of new- 
world progress and development is but begun. 

But six years more than a century ago, a poor, 
scanty population of 3,000,000 souls, confined to a 
few sea-coast provinces within hearing of the Atlan- 
tic surf, starting out as a republic, shaky, moneyless, 
inexperienced and almost faithless. To-day, 55,000,- 
000 of people, rich, strong, progressive and prosper- 
ous, spread from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and 
from the Great Lakes to the Gulf. They have made 
vast and trackless wildernesses rejoice and blossom 
like the rose gardens of the gods. They have made 
the deep, abysmal solitudes of untold ages musical 
with the many-voiced industries of civilization, and 
that civilization with all its faults, the freest and 
highest and best the world has ever known. They 
have built as by omnipotent enchanter's spells, cities 
and railroads and canals. They have bridged the 
mightiest rivers, and tunnelled the tallest mountains 
on the globe. They have spanned a hemisphere with 
their iron highways, and girdled the solid earth with 
their electric cables. 



KECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. . 183 

They travel by steam and talk by lightning. Their 
ingenuity and invention never end. Their credit is 
unlimited, their energy is tireless and dauntless, and 
their enterprise halts at nothing. They have shown 
creation that in the bright vocabulary of American 
national youth there is no such word as fail. One 
of their cities, a Dutch island settlement of a century 
or so ago, now has half as many inhabitants as their 
whole republic when they declared themselves free 
and independent, and could raise more money in 
twenty-four hours for a North, Central, and South 
American railway scheme, than the whole Continent- 
al Congress ever dreamt of during the seven years of 
the Eevolution. An Indian frontier fort, in an un- 
known wilderness of fifty years ago, now has a 
population of over 500,000, is the most beautifully 
built city, and engineers the most gigantic wheat 
corner steals in Christendom. 

"Where is all this gigantic growth and develop- 
ment to end? Will not the close of our century see 
all North America, from Behrings Strait to the 
Isthmus of Panama, under one glorious free Govern- 
ment and tri-colored flag? Will not the mystical 
figures " A. D. 1900 " find us all Canadians, United 
Statians, Mexicans, Guatemalians and Nicaraguans, 
brethren and friends and fellow-citizens, marching 
beneath the starry banner of the free and the brave, 
to a grand common destiny of illimitable wealth and 
power and renown ? 



184 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 



MY FIRST POLITICAL SPEECH. 

MAX ADELER. 

[Abridged for this book.] 

I had for some time entertained a strong convic- 
tion that nature designed me for an orator. I was 
assured that I possessed the gift of eloquence which 
enables great speakers to sway the passions of the 
multitude, and I felt that I needed but the oppor- 
tunity to reveal this fact to the world. Accordingly, 
at the beginning of the political campaign of which 
I speak, I sent my name to one of the executive com- 
mittees of the State, in Wilmington, with the request 
that it might be written down with the names of the 
speakers who could be called upon whenever im- 
portant meetings were held. I waited impatiently 
all through the campaign for a summons to appear 
and electrify the people. It did not come, and I 
was almost in despair. But on the day before the 
election I received from the chairman a brief note, 
saying that I had been announced to speak at Dover 
that evening before a great mass meeting, and re- 
questing me to take the early afternoon train, so 
that I might report to the local chairman in Dover 
before nightfall. 

Of course it was plain that anything like an at- 
tempt at gorgeousness in such a speech would be 
foolish, so I concluded to speak plainly and directly 
to the point, and to enliven my argument with some 
amusing campaign stories. In order to fix my points 
firmly in my mind, and to ensure their presentation 
in their proper order, they were numbered and com- 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 185 

mitted to memory, each argument and its accom- 
panying anecdote being associated with a particular 
arithmetical figure. The synopsis, if it may be called 
by that name, presented an appearance something 
like the following, excepting that it contained a 
specification of the points of the speech which need 
not be reproduced here : 

THE SPEECH. 

1. Exordium, concluding with Scott's famous lines, "Breathes 
there a man with soul so dead," etc. 

2. Arguments, introducing a narrative of the facts in the case 
of Hotchkiss, who was locked out upon the roof of his house all 
night. {See particulars farther on) The design of the story is to 
give a striking picture of the manner in which the opposition 
party will be left out in the cold by the election. {Make this 
strong, and pause for cheers.) 

3. Arguments, followed by the story of the Kickapoo Indian 
who saw a locomotive approaching upon the plains, and thinking 
it was a superior breed of buffalo, determined to capture it, so 
that he could take the first prize at the Kickapoo agricultural 
fair. He tied his lasso to his waist and threw the other end over 
the smoke-stack. The locomotive did not stop; but when the en- 
gineer arrived at the next station, he went out and cut the string- 
by which a small bit of copper-colored meat was tied to his 
smoke-stack. This is to illustrate the folly of the attempt of 
conservatism to check the onward career of pure and enlightened 
liberalism toward perfect civilization, etc., etc. 

4. Arguments, and then the anecdote of that Dutchman, in 
Berks county, Pa., who on the lOthof October, 1866, was observed 
to go out into his yard and raise the American flag; then he got 
his gun and fired a salute of seventeen or eighteen guns, after 
which he consumed six packs of tire-crackers and gave three 
cheers for the Union. He enjoyed himself in this manner nearly 
all day, while his neighbors gathered around outside and placed 
their elbows upon the fence, watching him and wondering what 
on earth he meant. A peddler who came along stopped and had 



186 RECHERCHfi RECITATIONS. 

an interview with him. To his surprise, he found that the Ger- 
man agriculturist was celebrating the Fourth of July, 1859. He 
did not know that it was any later in the century, for he had been 
keeping his time on a notched stick; and having been sick a 
great deal, he had gotten the thing in a dreadful tangle. When 
he learned that he was seven Fourths in arrears, he was de- 
pressed ; but he sent out and bought a box of fire-crackers and a 
barrel of gun-powder, and spent a week catching up. 

{Tell this vivaciously, and make the point that none but a 
member of the other party could forget the glorious anniversary 
of our country's birth, and say that the whole -party will have to 
do up a lot of back patriotism some day, if it desires to catch 
up with the people whose devotion to the country is encouraged 
and kept active by our side.) 

5. Arguments, supplemented with the narrative of a confiding 
man who had such child-like faith in a patent fire-extinguisher 
which he had purchased that he set fire to his house merely to 
have the fun of putting it out. The fire burned furiously, but the 
extinguisher gave only two or three imbecile squirts and then 
collapsed, and in two hours his residence was in ashes. Go on 
to say that our enemies have applied the torch of anarchy to the 
edifice of this government, but that there is an extinguisher which 
will not only not collapse, but will subdue the flames and quench 
the incendiary organization, and that extinguisher is our party. 
{Allow time for applause here.) 

6. Arguments, introducing the story of the Sussex county 
farmer who was discouraged because his wife was perfidious. 
Before he was married she vowed over and over again that she 
could chop four cords of wood a day, but after the ceremony the 
farmer found he was deceived. The treacherous woman could 
not chop more than two cords and a half, and so the dream of 
the husband was dissipated, and he demanded a divorce as the 
only balm for the wounds which lacerated his heart. Let this 
serve to illustrate the point that our political enemies have de- 
ceived us with promises to reduce the debt, to institute reforms, 
etc., etc., none of which they have kept, and now we must have 
the government separated from them by such a divorce as will be 
decreed to-morrow, etc., etc. 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 187 

7. Peroration, working in if possible the story of Commodore 
Scudder's dog, which, while out with its master one day, pointed 
at some partridges. The commodore was about to fire, but he 
suddenly received orders to go off on a three years' cruise, so he 
dropped his gun. left the dog standing there, and went right to 
sea. "When he returned, three years later, he went back to the 
field, and there was his gun, there was the skeleton of the dog- 
still standing and pointing just as he had left it, and a little 
farther on were the skeletons of the partridges. Show how our 
adversaries in their relations to the negro question resemble that 
dog. AVe came away years ago and loft them pointing at the 
negro question, and we come back now to find that they are at it 
yet. Work this in carefully, and conclude in such a manner as 
to excite frantic applause. 

At eight o'clock a very large crowd really did 
assemble in front of the porch of one of the hotels. 
I took a seat upon the porch and waited while the 
band played a spirited air or two. 

The chairman first introduced to the crowd Mr. 
Keyser, who was received with cheers. He was 'a 
ready speaker, and he began, to rny deep regret, by 
telling in capital style my story number three, after 
which he used up some of my number six arguments, 
and concluded with the remark that it was not his 
purpose to occupy the attention of the meeting for 
any length of time, because the executive committee 
in Wilmington had sent an eloquent orator who was 
now upon the platform and would present the cause 
of the party in a manner which he could not hope to 
approach. 

Mr. Keyser then sat down, and Mr. Schwartz was 
introduced. Mr. Schwartz observed that it was 
hardly worth while for him to attempt to make any- 
thing like a speech, because the gentleman from I\ew 



188 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

Castle had come down on purpose to discuss the 
issues of the campaign, and the audience, of course, 
was anxious to hear him. Mr. Schwartz would only 
tell a little story which seemed to illustrate a point 
he wished to make, and he thereupon related my 
anecdote number seven, making it appear that he 
was the bosom friend of Commodore Scudder and an 
acquaintance of the man who made the gun. 

When Schwartz withdrew, a man named Krum- 
bauer was brought forward. Krumbauer was a 
German, and the chairman announced that he would 
speak in that language for the benefit of those per- 
sons in the audience to whom the tongue was 
pleasantly familiar. Krumbauer went ahead, and 
the crowd received his remarks with roars of laughter. 
After one particularly exuberant outburst of merri- 
ment, I asked the man who sat next to me, and who 
seemed deeply interested in the story, 

"What was that little joke of Krumbauer's? It 
must have been first rate." 

" So it was," he said. " It was about a Dutchman 
up in Berk's county, Penn., who got mixed up in his 
dates." 

" What dates ? " I gasped, in awful apprehension. 

" Why, his Fourths of July, you know. Got seven 
or eight years in arrears and tried to make them all 
up at once. Good, wasn't it ? " 

"Good? I should think so; ha! ha! My very 
best story, as I'm a sinner ! " 

It was awfully bad. I could have strangled 
Krumbauer, and then chopped him into bits. The 
ground seemed slipping away beneath me; there was 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 189 

the merest skeleton of a speech left. But I deter- 
mined to take that and do my best, trusting to luck 
for a happy result. 

But my turn had not yet come. Mr. Wilson was 
dragged out next, and I thought I perceived a de- 
moniac smile steal over the countenance of the cym- 
bal player as "Wilson said he was too hoarse to say 
much; he would leave the heavy work for the 
brilliant young orator who was here from New 
Castle. He would skim rapidly over the ground 
and then retire. He did. Wilson rapidly skimmed 
all the cream off of my arguments numbers two, five 
and six, and wound up by offering the whole of my 
number four argument. My hair fairly stood on end 
when Wilson bowed and left the stand. What on 
earth was I to do now ? In an agony of despair, I 
turned to the man next to me and asked him if I 
would have to follow Wilson. 

He said it was his turn now. 

" And what are you going to say ? " I demanded, 
suspiciously. 

" Oh, nothing," he replied, " nothing at all. I 
want to leave room for you. I'll just tell a little 
story or so, to amuse them, and then sit down." 

" What story, for instance ? " I asked. 

" Oh, nothing, nothing; only a little yarn I happen 
to remember about a farmer who married a woman 
who said she could cut four cords of wood, when she 
couldn't." 

My worst fears were realized. I turned to the 
man next to me, and said, with suppressed emotion: 

" May I ask your name, my friend? " 



190 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

He said his name was Gumbs. 

" May I inquire what your Christian name is ? " 

He said it was William Henry. 

" Well, William Henry Gumbs," I exclaimed, 
" gaze at me ! Do I look like a man who would slay 
a human being in cold blood ? " 

"Hm-m-m, n-no; you don't," he replied, with an* 
air of critical consideration. 

" But I AM ! " said I, fiercely—" I AM; and I tell 
you now that if you undertake to relate that anec- 
dote about the farmer's wife, I will blow you into 
eternity without a moment's warning; I will, by 
George ! " 

Mr. Gumbs instantly jumped up, placed his hand 
on the railing of the porch, and got over suddenly 
into the crowd. He stood there pointing me out to 
the bystanders, and doubtless advancing the theory 
that I was an original kind of a lunatic, who might 
be expected to have at any moment a fit which would 
be interesting when studied from a distance. 

The chairman looked around, intending to call 
upon my friend, Mr. Gumbs; but not perceiving 
him, he came to me and said: 

" Now is your chance, sir; splendid opportunity; 
crowd worked up to just the proper pitch. We have 
paved the way for you; go in and do your best/' 

"Oh, yes; but hold on for a few moments, will 
you? I can't speak now; the fact is I'm not quite 
ready. Bun out some other man." 

" Haven't got another man. Kept you for the last 
purposely, and the crowd is waiting. Come ahead 
and pitch in, and give it to 'em hot and heavy." 



RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 191 

It was very easy for Mm to say " give it to them," 
but I had nothing to give. Beautifully they paved 
the way for me ! Nicely they had worked up the 
crowd to the proper pitch ! Here I was in a condi- 
tion of frantic despair, with a crowd of one thousand 
people expecting a brilliant oration from me who 
had not a thing in my mind but a beggarly story 
about a fire-extinguisher and a worse one about a 
farmer's wife. 

But the chairman was determined. He seized me 
by the arm and fairly dragged me to the front. He 
introduced me to the crowd in flattering, and I may 
say outrageously ridiculous terms, and then whisper- 
ing in my ear, "Hit 'em hard, old fellow, hit 'em 
hard," he sat down. 

The crowd received me with three hearty cheers. 
As I heard them I began to feel dizzy. The audi- 
ence seemed to swim around and to increase tenfold 
in size. By a resolute effort I recovered my self- 
possession partially, and determined to begin. I 
could not think of anything but the two stories, and 
I resolved to tell them as well as I could. I said: 

"Fellow-citizens: It is so late now that I will not 
attempt to make a speech to you." (Cries of "Yes! " 
"Go ahead ! " "Never mind the time ! " etc., etc.) 
Elevating my voice, I repeated: " I say it is so late 
now that I can't make a speech as I intended on ac- 
count of its being so late that the speech which I in- 
tended to make would keep you here too late if I 
made it as I intended to. So I will tell you a story 
about a man who bought a patent fire-extinguisher 
which was warranted to split four cords of wood a 



192 RECHERCHE RECITATIONS. 

day, so he set tire to his house to try her, and — No, 
it was his wife who was warranted to split four cords 
of wood — I got it wrong; and when the flames ob- 
tained full headway, he found she could only split 
two cords and a half, and it made him — "What I mean 
is that the farmer, when he bought the exting — court- 
ed her, that is, she said she could set -fire to the house, 
and when she tried him he collapsed the first time — 
the extinguisher did, and he wanted a divorce be- 
cause his house — Oh, hang it, fellow-citizens, you 
understand that this man, or farmer, rather, bought 
a — I should say courted a — that is, a fire-ex — " (des- 
perately) "Fellow-citizens! If any man shoots the 
American flag, pull him down upon the spot; but as 
for me, give me liberty or give me death ! " 

As I shouted this out at the top of my voice, in an 
ecstasy of confusion, a wild, tumultous yell of laugh- 
ter came up from the crowd. I paused for a second 
beneath the spell of that cold eye in the band, and 
then, dashing through the throng at the back of the 
porch, I rushed down the street to the depot, with 
the shouts of the crowd and the uproarious music 
of the band ringing in my ears. I got upon a freight 
train, and gave the engineer five dollars to take me 
along on the locomotive, and spent the night riding 
to New Castle. 



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